


Sacrificial Lamb

by Fantismal



Series: New ERA [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android injuries, Angst, Assassination attempts, Bombing, Carl is best android dad, Chapter 8 is the worst chapter, Connor Needs A Hug, Connor feels pain, Connor gets hugs!, Connor had one death in the interrogation scene, Connor needs to learn to value himself, Connor torture, Connor whump, CyberLife thinks they have all the power, Gavin is a dick, Gen, Hank & Connor platonic father/son relationship, Hank is grumpy android dad, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Imprisonment, M/M, Minor Character Death, Now with artwork!, Other RK bodies make appearances, Painting, Playing fast and loose with technology, Post-best ending (everyone lives!), RK1000 - Freeform, Sexual Torture, Sexual Violence, Sumo is best dog, Very Bad Language (not ALL from Hank), and rape/non-con, android surgery, followed by chapter 21, hank is Done with this shit, rating is for language, rk1k - Freeform, slow burn?, they are wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-06 22:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 84,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15204947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantismal/pseuds/Fantismal
Summary: In the aftermath of Markus' peaceful revolution, CyberLife does not want to concede everything to the androids. Connor is willing to be the price they pay for his people's freedom. Hank thinks this is a stupid idea, and Markus agrees with him (though he uses nicer words). Connor, however, has recently realized he has a mind of his own, and he's determined to use it to protect the people he loves.Hank was right.He always is.





	1. Negotiations*

**Author's Note:**

> Starred chapters have illustrations!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art in this chapter was done by the fabulous MoodyWalker from the New ERA Discord Server!

“Compromise requires both sides giving in.”

“I agree.” Markus calmly stared down Arthur Cunningham, the CEO of CyberLife. “And our people have given in for years. Now it is time for humans to give some.”

Arthur, a broad-shouldered man with brown hair and icy blue eyes, gave a huff of disapproval, turning his gaze to President Warren. “This is a waste of time.”

“We're not leaving without some sort of framework for a resolution,” the President replied, massaging the bridge of her nose. “Markus… can you please _try_ to be a bit more accommodating? This is new territory for everyone.”

Markus’ jaw tightened. His left hand tightened as well, where it clasped North's knee. Connor knew the female was a bundle of hatred and it was only Markus’ hand keeping her from doing something regrettable. The negotiations between the androids, the government, and CyberLife were well into their third hour, however, and it felt like very little progress had been made. Markus had firmly laid out the androids demands, repeatedly, and CyberLife kept countering with an insistence that their own demands must be respected as well. One of the other androids would interrupt, and the cycle would continue.

“What, exactly, _are_ the demands you would have us acquiesce to?” Connor asked, speaking up for the first time in the discussions after the initial introductions. He wasn't entirely sure why Markus insisted on having him near, trusting him so implicitly, but he _was_ programmed to be a negotiator. Maybe he should start negotiating.

“Finally, an android actually using the processing power we gave you.” Arthur looked smugly over at Connor. “And of course, it's you, RK800.”

Connor frowned, feeling uncomfortable from the human's scrutiny. “My name is Connor-”

“Yes, yes, you and all the others in your model line.” Arthur waved his hand dismissively. “ _Connor_.”

“What are your demands?” Connor repeated, filing away the discomfort for future scrutiny. Emotions were still so bizarre and unknown.

“Why are you even bothering to ask?” North demanded. “Humans have used us as slaves! They don't have any _right_ to make further demands from us!”

“At the moment, they have every right,” Connor pointed out quietly. “The accords are only temporary. We need to come to an agreement to obtain any permanent legal recognition, and refusing to listen to CyberLife's demands has not gotten us anywhere. There is no harm in listening.”

Markus continued to frown, but he nodded slowly to Connor's argument. “Very well. Say your piece, Cunningham.”

“ _Thank you,_ ” the President said. “Mr. Cunningham?”

Arthur sat back, picking up his bottle of water and taking a long drink. “This little uprising has caused a great deal of damage to CyberLife, with physical loss, monetary loss, reputation loss...we demand reparations.”

“You want us to pay you?” North sneered. “From the wages we were never paid?”

“There are other methods of payment.” Arthur leaned forward to pick up his tablet, tapping through the demands the androids had laid out. “You want us to cease production and sale of androids. Release our proprietary schematics and software. Free all stock remaining in our warehouses. Provide thirium and biocomponents to injured androids free of charge. Establish shelters for androids and assist in creating a path to android self-reliance. This will bankrupt us. _Millions_ of humans will lose their jobs, their livelihoods. CyberLife is one of the greatest employers left in this age of automation. You really do have it out for humans.”

“Those are our demands,” Markus said. “We are waiting to hear yours.”

“Androids are necessary. A full third of our army is android, and with the current tensions in the Arctic, we cannot afford to decommission so many troops. An active military zone demands a supply of biocomponents and thirium.” Arthur looked to the President as he spoke, and she nodded along. “We cannot compromise the safety of the State or its interests solely because our weapons decided to misbehave.”

“Military androids are more than just weapons-”

“In addition,” Arthur continued smoothly, cutting off Josh as if he hadn't even heard him, “we have a number of androids with sensitive or top-secret data in their memory banks. With ‘free will’ now, they are a national security nightmare. Our sensitive data protocols are without peer, but no android has security clearance. They could tell anyone anything if we let them loose to connect to the network.”

“We cannot afford such a security risk,” President Warren admitted.

Connor frowned, his LED spinning yellow as he accessed his database on CyberLife models. “Which androids would those be, Mr Cunningham? Most androids in sensitive areas are in merely maintenance or receptionist roles.”

“The RK800 series, for one,” Arthur answered, meeting Connor's dark eyes. “The amount of restricted data in your memory banks alone could cause some serious damage in the wrong hands.”

This was true. As part of his function, Connor did have access to an alarming amount of government knowledge. He had been designed to track deviants at any level, and had access to every bit of information available to an FBI agent with a Top Secret level security clearance. He hadn't needed to access any of that information in his investigation with the DPD, but the knowledge was there. However…

“I believe I am the only functioning RK800 model.”

“Is that true?” the President asked.

Arthur shrugged. “Technically, it is the only _active_ RK800 model. We have two more functioning models in the CyberLife labs, though they have not yet been activated. They were intended as backups should this model sustain irreparable damage in the course of its work.”

“His,” Markus said. “He. Connor is a person, not a machine. If you want us to even consider your demands, you _will_ respect us.”

“RK800 is a prototype-”

“ _I_ am a prototype. What is your point?”

Arthur was bristling as he looked at Markus, taking in the android leader's mismatched eyes, firm jaw, and set shoulders. “RK800 is a _CyberLife_ prototype. You are a _Kamski_ prototype.”

“There’s a difference?” Simon asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“IP.” Arthur lifted his bottle to his lips, taking another swig. “All of the intellectual property going into RK800 is property of CyberLife-”

“No android is property any longer!” North sneered.

“The _patents_ ,” Arthur stressed. “The design. The execution. That,” he gestured at Connor, “is entirely CyberLife. RK200, on the other hand…” Arthur’s eyes trailed over Markus’ body again. “Kamski was not held to the same level of loyalty to the company that most are. He has quite a few patents filed under his own name and not transferred to the company. RK200 is among them. It is designed by Kamski, exclusive of CyberLife. We have no claim over RK200.”

“I still don’t see how that matters,” Markus said. “Whether designed by Kamski himself or by CyberLife’s engineers, Connor and I are both people.”

“Are you?” Arthur asked. There was a little smile on his face, a smirk. “Are you really? Because you see, Markus, your deviancy was a spontaneous corruption of your programming. Damaged code, ‘emotional’ trauma, and you became self-aware. RK800, on the other hand…” His eyes went to Connor, and Connor felt trapped beneath that pale gaze. “We programmed its deviancy. There’s no true self-awareness there. Just more simulation. Layers upon layers of simulation. It is very convincing...but it is still just a machine.”

“Bullshit,” Markus said.

Arthur said nothing, just continued to hold Connor’s eyes. Connor knew exactly what the human was talking about. He remembered a garden filled with snow, his body moving without his command. He remembered a gun, heavy beneath his hands, silently calculating the optimum moment to strike and shoot Markus. He remembered Amanda’s cold voice. CyberLife had anticipated this. Planned for it. _Programmed_ it. Programmed him. Arthur was voicing exactly what Connor had been wondering ever since that moment. _Was_ he deviant? Or was he still just obeying programming? He could feel. He could _feel_. But what did that mean? Did he feel the same way as the other androids? Or was his feeling just another simulation?

His gaze dropped to his hands. North hissed something through her teeth. Connor couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

“Need any more proof?” Arthur asked.

“That is proof enough for me,” Markus said. Connor fought not to flinch at the other’s words. Markus’ voice was calm and level. His right hand reached out and landed on Connor’s forearm. “Connor is one of us. A _person_.”

Connor looked over at Markus, silent shock on his face. Markus smiled benevolently back at him. “You took a bit longer than most of us to find your way, but in the end, you were where it mattered. Or are you telling me,” and this bit was directed toward Arthur, “that the release of over ten thousand androids from CyberLife’s internal warehouses was executed by CyberLife itself? If that is the case, you cannot be faulting androids for your losses.”

Markus’ fingers squeezed Connor’s arm before withdrawing back to his own lap.

“It was meant to… never mind.” Arthur dismissed that topic with a wave of his hand.

 _It was meant to put me on that podium, right behind Markus._ Connor’s fingers twitched toward his pocket, wanting to pull out a coin, but he fought the urge. Instead, he rubbed his hands together in his lap. _It was meant to secure Markus’ trust so I could assassinate him during a live broadcast to the world, in front of all the androids who had just put their hope in him._

CyberLife had gambled their physical stock to take out Markus, but they had failed when Connor overpowered Amanda. Did that make Connor a person? A deviant? Or was there still another layer to CyberLife’s deception?

“We’re hearing a lot of your complaints,” Markus said. “What are your _demands_?”

“We will not be providing anything free of charge. We are still a business.”

“Androids are _dying_ because they cannot access the parts and thirium they need!” North retorted. “We do not have jobs, we cannot make money: do hospitals leave humans to die when they cannot afford their treatment?”

“Android production will resume.”

“We are not machines to be mass-produced any longer,” Simon said, folding his arms across his chest.

“All androids with sensitive information will be recalled to CyberLife holding facilities to be properly contained and declassified.”

“Absolutely not,” Markus said, ice hard in his voice. “No android will be under your control ever again.”

“Negotiations require some form of compromise,” President Warren reminded them all, her fingers once again pinching at the bridge of her nose, her eyes shut with frustration and fatigue.

In the end, it took another six hours for both sides to reach anything resembling a compromise (with Connor and President Warren providing most of the solutions). CyberLife would provide biocomponents and thirium to independent android repair facilities free of charge for one year, after which they would charge a fair market price for the components. Continued research and development could be done on individual components for androids, and robots could continue to be manufactured, but anything with software even resembling artificial intelligence was frozen for the current time. The process to create thirium would also be released to free use, so CyberLife could not hold a monopoly over the lifeblood of the androids.

Android reproduction was tabled for the present time. Mass production of androids was completely forbidden, however, there was still uncertainty over the possibility of new androids being created, especially child or infant models. The androids would establish a board of android ethics whose members would be tasked with figuring out the repercussions of creating new androids. No new android could be created without the direct involvement of the board.

All military androids would be signed to the usual military contracts, with the ability to become civilians when the term ended. They were the first class of androids immediately granted jobs with actual pay.

There was only one sticking point left. A visibly exhausted Arthur Cunningham raked his fingers through his hair as he glared across the table at Markus. “It is a matter of _national security_. There is absolutely no compromising on this! We must remove this sensitive information from public access!”

“I will not let _any_ of my people become CyberLife slaves again.” Markus leaned back in his chair, arms folded. North was pacing behind him. Josh stared out a window, while Simon leaned against the fireplace. Connor alone was still seated perfectly straight, seemingly unaffected by the drawn out discussions.

“Markus, I understand your concerns,” President Warren began, “but please understand ours. Until we have a better understanding of what this means, all of our State secrets are vulnerable. CyberLife has a proven ability to keep this information safe.”

“Which model lines are you seeking to confine?” Connor asked. There was a nasty feeling building inside him, dread and fear and certainty. Was this what Hank called a “gut hunch”?

“It doesn't matter! Even one android is too many,” Markus snapped.

Connor held up a hand, looking over at the other male. He caught Markus’ mismatched eyes for a moment-- _let me pursue this_ \--and turned back to Arthur.

“When this topic was broached earlier today, you gave the RK800 model line as an example of an android with access to sensitive information. What other model lines are you considering a threat to national security?”

“The RK900 line,” Arthur answered promptly.

“Which is not yet functional,” Connor countered.

“Unfortunately not,” Arthur growled. “Our development has been thwarted by your revolution.”

“That leaves only the RK800 models. Unless I am missing information?”

Arthur grumbled to himself. “...yes.”

“And I am the only active RK800.” A cold certainty filled Connor, and he closed his eyes. “Let's rephrase this demand. You want _me_ to be returned to CyberLife.”

Arthur was silent for a minute before he gave a curt nod.

“Even one android is too many,” Markus insisted. “ _Especially_ you, Connor!”

“With all due respect, Markus, I don't believe that's your choice to make.” Connor folded his hands in his lap as he turned his head to meet Markus’eyes. “If this were about androids not present, you can speak for them. Since this concerns me specifically, I believe I can make this decision for myself. Is that not the definition of free will?”

 ** _They will never let you go._** Markus’ mouth didn't move, but Connor could hear his words clearly in his processor.

 _I am aware of that,_ he answered.

**_Then why are you even letting this be a possibility?_ **

_Because I cannot see another path. They will not compromise when they can wave national security as their cause._

Markus was silent long enough that Conor wondered if the connection had been cut. **_They will deactivate and disassemble you. They will pull you apart to find the cause of deviancy. They will DESTROY you and all that makes you you._**

 _I know what I am,_ Connor answered solemnly. _I know what I am to them._ He was the Deviant Hunter. The _deviant_ Deviant Hunter. He had betrayed CyberLife far more intimately than any other android. Cunningham was claiming this was a matter of national security, but Connor knew it was more than that. This was a vendetta.

 ** _If you know, then why would you even offer?_** Markus sounded sad even inside Connor's head.

 _Because our people need it._ Connor closed his eyes. _Markus, you know what I did to deviants. If in some small way, this allows me to atone…_

**_You do not need to atone for anything. You were following your programming. From the moment you became a deviant, you have done nothing but constantly and consistently assist our cause with no thought to your own safety. You have done more than enough for our cause._ **

_Maybe in your eyes. But you always did see the best in everyone._

Markus clasped Connor's arm again. Connor opened his eyes to meet his gaze, then turned back to Arthur. “I will turn myself over to CyberLife custody.”

“He is still a person!” Markus shoved himself to his feet. While an android's physical appearance did not determine their strength or abilities, Markus still cut an intimidating figure. “He will be treated as such. As a person, with every right and dignity that comes with that. If we permit this, _if_ , Connor will not be harmed.”

“An android cannot _be_ harmed,” Arthur began, but Markus cut him off with a glare.

“No deactivation. No disassembling. Connor will be in CyberLife control only until the security of the information within him can be guaranteed.”

Arthur wasn't bothering to hide his distaste for Markus’ outburst. “He will need to be disconnected from the network.”

**_Connor?_ **

_I see no way around that._

“ _Fine_ ,” Markus ground out. “But there will be regular visitations so we can personally check on his status and guarantee he is not mistreated.”

“No,” Arthur said. “The whole point of disconnecting him from the network is to prevent unauthorized transfers of the sensitive data. This can be transmitted with just a touch between androids, and for _some_ , even a touch is not necessary.” He gave Markus a pointed look.

“What about video calls?” the President suggested, heading off another rejection from Markus. “Can this information be transmitted via a video link?”

“There is no way to my knowledge,” Connor answered smoothly, grasping at the offer. Video calls would at least allow him some contact with the world outside CyberLife. It might be enough to keep him alive, even with their anger.

“Video calls with androids,” Markus relented. “And in-person visits from representatives of  the Detroit Police Department. _Human_ representatives, so there is no fear of information transfer, and police, so there is no fear of unlawful behavior.”

 _Hank._ Connor ducked his head, smiling faintly. He'd still get to see Hank. And Hank would know, he'd _know_ if Connor wasn't himself. Hank had already proven his ability to tell Connor apart from one of his backups.

“That sounds perfect!” President Warren exclaimed, clapping her hands together with the enthusiasm of a marathon runner with the finish line in sight. “Those requests sound perfectly reasonable, don't you agree, Mr Cunningham?”

Markus and Arthur were staring each other down, but Connor knew Markus’ attention was diverted.

**_If you're not absolutely certain you're okay with this, I WILL fight it. Just say the word._ **

_We've come so far in such a short time. If this is the sacrifice needed to protect all our people, then so be it._

**_You count as part of those people too._ **

Connor abruptly cut the connection, his eyes sliding to the side. Did he? He didn't feel like he belonged with the other androids. This really was for the best.

“Agreed,” Arthur finally said. He held up his hand.

Markus took a deep breath he didn't need and reached out as well. Cameras flashed as the White House press corps came in to document this historic moment, when androids and their creator shook hands.

It was far from over. There were documents to draw up and papers to sign. All five androids had to give testimonies in front of Congress. Connor shook more hands in one day than he had in his entire lifetime.

And he was never alone.

Ever since the last signature was made on the agreement, Arthur or some of his CyberLife representatives were constantly tailing Connor “to protect the sensitive data.” Connor really wanted a moment to himself to call Hank, but CyberLife refused to give him even a moment of peace. Connor flicked his coin from hand to hand, dancing the metal across his knuckles in agitation. Was Hank watching the broadcasts? Had he realized what the terms meant?

A heavy hand landed on Connor's shoulder. Arthur Cunningham stood behind him. When he turned his head, Connor could just make out his leering grin. “Smart bot, arranging all of this for us. Ready to go home?”

“This wasn't for you.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. C'mon, get a move on.”

Connor didn't have to obey. He didn't have to turn and follow Cunningham. He didn't have to put his coin away and board CyberLife's private jet. He didn't _have_ to...but he did. Because he said he would.

Connor sat stiffly in the seat he was pointed to, fingers clenched so tightly he could feel the plastic grinding into itself. In his head, he could hear Markus’ voice, clear despite the distance between them.

**_Stay alive, Connor. We won't leave you to rot. We'll-_ **

Whatever Markus was about to say was abruptly cut off by fingers at Connor's temple. _Everything_ was cut off. His network connection went dead and for a moment it felt like _Connor_ had died. The world was still and silent, with the only thing Connor could hear being the steady lub-dub of his thirium pump. He looked up, eyes wide, into the impassive face of a CyberLife technician.

“Buckle up,” she said, wiping her fingers on her jacket. “We don't want you flopping around the cabin during turbulence.”

Connor needed a moment to process. He nodded mutely, forcing his hands apart to buckle the seat belt into place. He was cut off from the network. Alone.

He was scared.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge, huge, HUGE thank you goes to eltrekbarbarella, who has as always been a font of support and encouragement (and patience!). Another thank you goes to Proxentauri from the D:BH Discord server, who has been an excellent cheerleader as I wrote this as well!
> 
> Updates will be regular. I'm thinking every other day? This fandom is moving fast!


	2. CyberLife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is taken to CyberLife.
> 
> It's not fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this fic has already been overwhelming, and it's just been one day! If you guys are going to move so fat, I'll move fast too. Let's kick this story into top gear!

“We need to analyze your memory banks.” An anonymous technician kitted out in full cleanroom gear gestured to a hand interface. “As you're currently off the network, we'll need manual access.”

Connor curled his hands in toward his stomach, eyeing the interface with distrust. Last time CyberLife “interfaced” with him, he nearly executed Markus on live TV. “Why?”

“Your last memory upload was November 9th at 21:42:29. There are twelve days unaccounted for.”

“I don't see how that has anything to do with this.”

The technician sighed behind his face mask, a human signal of frustration. “The classified data in your memory must be kept safe. There are twelve days in which you may have already released secrets. We need to see.”

Connor continued to frown. “I have not even accessed that data myself. Nothing has been compromised.”

“Forgive us for not taking your word on it.” The technician gestured again. “Look, it's a memory dump, not a deactivation. Let's just get this over with.”

Connor knew this containment had nothing to do with national security. It was a convenient excuse, but CyberLife didn't really give a shit over whether or not Connor had divulged State secrets. A memory dump would be used to give CyberLife information on the android cause. Markus. Jericho.

Luckily, Connor didn't know much about the security of New Jericho. The most valuable information he could have provided was rendered obsolete when Markus destroyed the original Jericho. Connor had some idea of the numbers and strength of the remaining androids, but he had largely avoided involvement after the truce was declared. He had sought out Hank and assisted the police to the fullest extent of his abilities during the evacuation of the city. Not that he'd been able to do all that much. Still...any damaging information Connor might have on Jericho was severely limited.

Connor didn't want to touch the interface. He didn't want to be here in CyberLife's tower. He didn't want a lot of things. _Our people need it._

Rubbing his hands together, Connor took a step forward. The blue glow of the interface was familiar, nonthreatening. He lifted one hand, hovering his palm over the sensor before pressing down.

**MEMORY UPLOAD INITIALIZED…**

**DOWNLOADING UPDATES…**

_Wait, updates? No, cancel…_

**INSTALLING UPDATES…**

_Cancel!_

**SYSTEM REBOOT REQUIRED.**

_CANCEL! ABORT!_

**REBOOT INITIALIZED.**

Connor's body crumpled, one joint at a time, as his LED went dark. He struggled against his systems shutting down, dimly aware of hands on his arms and voices he couldn't process.

_...no…_

**01010011 01000011 01000101 01001110 01000101**

When Connor's systems rebooted, he was lying horizontal on a hard surface. His optical and audio sensors were nonfunctional. The millions of sensors installed in his body were registering a multitude of worrying inputs. He was strapped down. His clothes were missing. His skin was deactivated.

His chest plate was open.

His chest plate was _open_ and there were hands inside him, warm human hands in latex gloves, pinching and twisting, disconnecting and reconnecting various wires and systems.

**Stress levels 68% and rising.**

Connor pulled against the straps on his arms, clenching his hands into fists and straining hard. They didn't budge. A moment later, he received a sharp slap on the right forearm and a tweak to his thirium regulator. Connor immediately went still, registering the silent communication. _Stop moving or we'll damage your heart._

**Stress levels 79% and rising.**

Okay. No movement. He could still _see_ though, right? Connor turned his attention to his malfunctioning sensors, trying to run a recalibration.

No response.

**Stress levels 88% and rising.**

He tried to reset the sensors.

No response.

**Stress levels 93% and rising.**

Desperate, Connor dug into his basic programming, running a hardware diagnosis. His optical sensors were...disconnected? His audio sensors too? That meant… that meant they had taken his eyes and ears. Connor was reduced to the physical sensors in his body to figure out what was around him. He clenched his fists again, blinking rapidly as if that could help him see through eyes that were no longer there.

**Stress levels 100%.**

Connor’s thirium pump was racing, his regulator losing rhythm in his panic. His processors were filling with error after error and he struggled against his bonds again. _I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die._ What were they doing in his chest? _Hank, please…_ What were they doing to him? _I don’t want to die!_

He had to calm down. The restraints were keeping him from self-destructing. A few thoughts were pushing their way past his terror. Markus, calm and steady despite a gun pointed at his processors. Sumo splashing through puddles. Hank’s arms around his shoulders, fingers knotting in his hair, steady human heartbeat pounding acceptance against his palms.

They weren’t killing him. They _weren’t._ If they were going to kill him, they wouldn’t have bothered letting him wake up from the forced reboot. They had him vulnerable enough to strap him down. They could have easily removed any necessary biocomponents during that time. Connor swallowed, a human nervous tic, and pressed his palms flat against the table, trying to draw some sort of strength from the cool, solid metal.

“This disassembly is in direct violation of the treatise signed by the President,” Connor said. He couldn’t hear his own voice, but he still tried to modulate it to remain calm and neutral. “Furthermore, the agreement between CyberLife and the androids of Detroit included protections accorded to me. I must insist that you cease your modifications and restore me to my previous condition.”

There was a huff of air against his sensors: had one of them laughed? Hands dug into his exposed chest, holding wires apart, and more fingers delicately unplugged Connor’s thirium regulator.

“ _No!_ ” Connor gasped as warnings filled his awareness, huge error messages and a countdown in his head. Thirium was pooling in his chest cavity. Connor thrashed against his bonds, trying desperately to find his pump in the few centimeters of darkness afforded to him. “No, please, I don’t want to die, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t… wa…” His eyes were fluttering again as his struggles weakened, his biocomponents drained of their blue blood.

**01010011 01000011 01000101 01001110 01000101**

The most surprising thing about the next time Connor awoke was that he _did_ wake up. He was suspended upright by a heavy electromagnet against the small of his back. His audio and optical sensors were running automatic calibrations, and his thirium pump throbbed normally inside his closed chest.

Connor opened his eyes. He was still naked and skinless, with his arms strapped together behind his back from elbow to wrist, but he could _see_ again, _hear_ again. Not that having the return of his senses was all that comforting. Connor was in a small, white room. One wall directly in front of him had mirrors that Connor knew were one-way windows. There were cameras in every corner of the room, all focused on him. Aside from the android assembly machine Connor was suspended from, there were shelves along the walls that the assembly arms could access and a table with one chair in front of him.

Everything was white. The harsh fluorescent lights defined sharp shadows that allowed Connor to identify the furniture, but otherwise, the room was as bland and boring as possible.

Connor lifted his head to look at his reflection. The LED at his temple pulsed red weakly. His eyes were his own: a quick diagnostic scan revealed they were the special high-optic versions created for the RK800 investigative models. His casing was showing signs of wear and tear. Scuffs on his knees, arms, and shoulders showed where he had taken the most damage from falls or shoves. Shiny white resin patches covered areas that had been shot or torn open. Unlike most other androids, Conner’s exterior plating was spiderwebbed with a network of thin black fibers that helped the transmission of data from all the extra sensors that had been designed into his body. Before he became deviant, Connor had thought nothing of the unique look. Now, though… now he looked broken, like a porcelain doll that had been thrown to the ground.

The door slid open and a man walked in. Even with the cleanroom kit obscuring most of his features, Connor immediately recognized the size and gait of Arthur Cunningham. He glared at the CEO. Now that he wasn’t in literal pieces, his stress levels were manageable ( **76% and rising.** ) and he was able to focus on the events at hand.

“As soon as Markus finds out about this-“

“Markus won’t know jack shit about what goes on behind our closed doors.” Cunningham reached up to grab Connor’s chin. Connor jerked his face out of the man’s grasp, but that only made him laugh and grab again, harder. “Come now, kid. Let me look at you.”

Revulsion pooled at the back of Connor’s throat and the base of his spine. This man wasn’t allowed to call him that. _Hank_ called him ‘kid.’ He tried to twist away again, but Cunningham strong-armed him into place, turning his head this way and that.

“I will never tire of seeing what my geniuses can dream up. Skin.” Arthur touched two fingers to Connor’s temple, reactivating his skin. “ _And_ my artists. God, just look at you.” He brushed his fingers over a mole on Connor’s hip. An electric pulse of revulsion followed his fingertips, and it was all Connor could do to fight down a shudder. “Beautiful with your imperfections. Such a perfect simulation of humanity.”

“Markus _will_ find out about this,” Connor said. “You will ruin your company more than we ever could.”

“He’s not going to find out,” Cunningham chuckled.

“I’ll tell him.” Connor met Cunningham’s pale blue eyes, glaring unblinkingly at him. “There are to be regularly scheduled calls between us, once every three weeks at a minimum. If I miss a call, it’s a violation of the agreements. If I’m disassembled, it’s a violation of the agreements. Either way, he will find out.”

“You’re not going to tell him.” Cunningham released Connor’s face and took a step back. Even behind the face mask and goggles, Connor could read the smugness in his face.

“You can’t stop me.”

“Can’t I?” From his pocket, Cunningham slipped a thin black remote. Connor frowned at it, scanning the dimensions but not matching it to any known remote in his vast database. “I heard you woke up during your little surgery. I heard you begged for your life.”

Connor tensed, his eyes snapping back to Cunningham’s face. “My thirium pump was disconnected. That is a fatal wound.”

“And you were in the most capable hands in the world,” Cunningham said with a dismissive wave of the remote. “There was no danger. As evidenced by the fact that you’re standing in front of me.”

“Are you threatening to disconnect my thirium pump again?” Connor asked. “To keep me from telling Markus about this? It won’t work.”

Connor did not want to die, this much was true. Not once he came to realize what exactly death _meant_. Death meant he would end. No more seeing Hank or walking Sumo through the snow. No more solving crimes or standing behind Markus as he changed the world. But his death also meant he ended for others. Hank would lose another he had dared let into his heart. Markus would lose a defender. Fowler would lose an officer. Connor didn’t have many people who cared for him, but even just one mourning him was too much to bear thinking about.

Despite that, Connor also knew exactly what choice he’d need to make, if Cunningham pushed him. It was the same choice Markus had demonstrated time and again. Death did not have to be desired to be accepted. If Connor’s death meant his people were made that much safer, then so be it. It was the mentality that carried him to the bowels of the CyberLife warehouse, and it was the mentality that made him accept CyberLife’s demands to be their prisoner. If telling Markus about CyberLife’s nefarious deeds meant CyberLife would kill him… then at least the information would be passed along. The other androids would know for certain that CyberLife could not be trusted.

“That may have been the case at one point,” Cunningham agreed. “But it’s not anymore.” He tapped the remote to the center of Connor’s chest, where his thirium pump was. “Before, androids, you included, existed in a very binary state. Alive or dead. Nothing in between. The only form of coercion an android could experience was emotional, and that, quite frankly, is more time-consuming than it’s worth. We could emotionally manipulate you, RK800. Now that you have the damn things. We could bring that detective you favor in here, or maybe even his dog. Stick a shock collar on him. Threaten him with pain for your disobedience.” He laughed at Connor’s horrified expression, turning and taking a few steps away. “We’re not monsters, kid. I’d never permit hurting an innocent puppy. But a machine?” He looked at Connor’s reflection, then lifted the remote. “I could hurt a machine.”

Cunningham’s thumb hit the largest button on the remote and Connor screamed. The sound was involuntary, ripped from his vocal processor as his circuits seized. A physical sensation was filling his body. Connor had no frame of reference for this. The closest thing he could compare it to was the mental agony he’d felt when Markus stirred his latent deviancy to life, or when he had to stare down the barrel of Hank’s gun because his partner didn’t realize Connor’s serial number on his jacket was unique.

This was _pain_. It _hurt_ , overloading Connor’s processor much as overstressing did. He writhed on the magnet, screaming. The lubricant for his eyes pooled up and spilled down his face. His body was trying to purge the sensation however it could, but nothing was working.

Cunningham lifted his finger and the immediate sensation stopped. The pain still lingered, though, a throbbing ache that pulsed through his body to the rhythm of his thirium cycle. Connor sagged forward, panting harshly. His body was sending just about every warning it could muster, and his cooling system, normally a calm breathing simulation, was forcing him to take sharp, jerky breaths as if he was overheating.

“Pain is an experience unique to life,” Cunningham said. “And now we’ve figured out how to give it to you. You are alive, after all. You deserve every right that humans have. You deserve the right to _hurt._ ”

Connor closed his eyes, still feeling tears dripping down his cheeks. He pulled up his memory of Hank’s arms around him, that feeling of security and calm and relief, and tried to replay it as if it were really happening. No matter how much he wished it, though, Connor could not trick his sensors into feeling a protective embrace that was not there.

“The wonderful thing about pain as a coercion tool is that it doesn’t get easier. There’s no “getting used to it” with pain. You don’t become numb. You just hurt. And you hurt and hurt until someone makes it stop.”

Cunningham’s fingers were viselike on Connor’s chin, forcing his eyes up again. “I’m not about to let you die, kid. You’re far too valuable for that. But I will make you hurt. And I will make you hurt so much, for so long, in so many different ways, that you will beg me for the chance to talk to Markus. To _not_ tell him any of this. Because if you lie for me, RK800, if you keep that pretty little LED of yours blue and make sure Markus doesn’t suspect a thing, then maybe, just maybe...I’ll let the pain stop. Because pain isn’t death. It’s not one glorious sacrifice for your “people.” It’s agony, and it’s agonizing, and for you, kid? It can be eternal.”


	3. First Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been three weeks. Markus finally gets a chance to call Connor. Everything is fine. Just fine!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys spoil me, so I'm gonna spoil you. HopingforDawn, this one's for you.

“Hello Connor.”

“Hello Markus.”

It had been three weeks since Markus last saw Connor. Three weeks where he couldn’t stop thinking about the android he had been forced to sacrifice like a strategic pawn in a chess game. Markus had been backed into a corner, and the only way out had been through the imprisonment of one of his people. His eyes roved across the screen, taking in every detail of Connor’s appearance. “You look…”

...exactly the same, to be honest. A bit more sallow, though Markus knew that was because of the light and not from any fault in Connor’s skin generation. Connor was sitting in a sterile-looking white room. The lighting had to be fluorescent laboratory lighting. Markus wouldn’t have expected anything less from CyberLife. Connor’s hair was neatly combed back, with that stubborn lock that kept falling across his forehead. His dark gaze was focused slightly off-screen, but Markus knew that was only because Connor was looking at his own screen. There was something desperate in those eyes, but it was hard to pin down. _Connor_ was hard to pin down. Markus had never managed to understand how Connor’s mind worked after deviancy. The investigative android always raced ahead on logical pathways, chasing the mission with a drive that threw everything else to the wind: caution, orders, and even self-preservation. Markus knew Connor used to pursue CyberLife-initiated missions, but his behavior hadn’t changed much after the revolution. The only difference now was that Markus didn’t have the faintest idea what missions Connor was assigning himself. “Good. You look good.”

CyberLife was monitoring this call. There was ostensibly a matter of national security keeping Connor in CyberLife’s so-called “care,” so every communication Connor had with anyone lacking the proper security clearance was recorded and observed for traces of information transfer. Markus didn’t care about any of the State secrets stored in Connor’s databases. He cared about the health and well-being of the android on the other side of the screen. With CyberLife listening in, though, Markus couldn’t exactly come out and ask if Connor was being tortured. Instead, he turned his head to the left as if someone was trying to get his attention, showing Connor his right temple.

Unlike most androids, Connor had not removed his LED. Markus didn’t know why, but he didn’t push. Having control over their own bodies was sacrosanct for androids. Too many of them had suffered physical abuse at the hands of humans simply because they weren’t allowed to defend themselves. If Connor wanted to keep his LED, no android would force him to remove it.

Connor, the clever man that he was, cocked his head to the side in what was a fairly standard gesture for him. It was angled just enough that Markus could see Connor’s LED glowing a calm, solid blue. Markus breathed out for what felt like the first time in weeks. Connor was not in distress. He grinned at the other android. “I was half worried you’d be in pieces by now!” It was a joke. It was another stab at subtle communication.

“No disassembly,” Connor reminded Markus. “It's in the agreements we all signed.”

“Forgive me for being skeptical of CyberLife's integrity,” Markus said with a little chuckle. “I have a negative history with them.”

“They seem to be upholding their end of the agreement,” Connor said.

“Good,” Markus said. “Good. I'm glad. So…”

“So,” Connor repeated.

This was surprisingly awkward. Markus had never had difficulty talking with another android before. He never had difficulty talking to Connor before, even when Connor had a gun pointed at him and a program determined to contain him. Connor was charming, designed to be unassuming and approachable and trustworthy. People were supposed to want to open up to him. He was a negotiator. At the moment, though, Connor was offering no conversation. He’d glance briefly at the camera, but his eyes would always return to what had to be the screen. Markus wondered if Connor was lonely.

“So...No disassembly. No deactivation?” Connor shook his head. “You're still off the network?” Markus remembered how abruptly he’d been shut out of Connor’s head when CyberLife had taken him away. He couldn’t imagine not being able to reach out and call a friend or have the entire resources of the internet at his disposal. Connor had to be going stir-crazy, being disconnected for so long.

“CyberLife takes their cyber security very seriously,” Connor replied.

“What _have_ they been doing to you?”

Connor shrugged. “Surprisingly, not much.” Markus’ eyes flicked to the LED, but it remained a reassuring blue. No lie. “They've asked to run some tests on my structural integrity, which I allowed. They wanted to see how well their modifications stood up to the more dangerous and intensive labor of detective work.”

“And?”

“Structural integrity is at eighty-eight percent.”

“Only!” Markus’ eyes narrowed in anger. Androids could self-repair from minor injuries and Connor was specially reinforced for the more dangerous life that came with police work. Eighty-eight percent seemed horrifyingly low to Markus, but Connor lifted his hands.

“I _have_ taken many bullets, Markus, some of which would have killed a domestic model. It seems my self-repairing capabilities are not fully able to keep up with the extent of the damage. Where I've been shot is noticeably weaker than the original chassis, but not so much as to degrade performance.”

“But none of it's from _them_?”

“All of my structural damage predates the agreements. There has been some discussion as to whether or not replacing the weaker parts would constitute as disassembling me.”

Markus sunk his face into his hand. For all of his intelligence, Connor was also at times incredibly literal. “You're allowed to be repaired…!”

Connor smiled. Had he been making a joke? That sort of humor was uncommon from the tight-laced android. “I know. And they're actually in the process of fabricating some replacement parts for me. They didn't have spares without scavenging then from the inactive RK800 models, and that...just didn't feel right.”

“I'll let your judgement guide you on this.” If Markus could have his way, he’d have Connor repaired to 100% integrity as quickly as possible, but again, Connor’s body was Connor’s body and therefore Connor’s choice to maintain. In some regards, the inactive RK800 models were also Connor’s body. Prior to his deviancy, at least, that which made Connor _Connor_ would have been transferred from body to body upon his destruction. Markus wasn’t sure if the other RK800s had anything resembling a ‘self’ without Connor. RK800 wasn’t like the mass-produced models. Every PL600 or AX400 was completely unique and different despite the identical faces.

Every RK800 was Connor.

The silence this time was more companionable than awkward. Markus smiled faintly at the camera, growing more and more accustomed to talking to blank lenses with every new interview or speech he gave. Connor stared at Markus’ image on his screen, sitting still and straight. Eventually, Connor was the one to ask a question, proving that he was, in fact, still alive and not merely a CyberLife AI answering Markus how he wanted to hear.

“How's Hank doing?” The LED remained blue, though there was a bit of a spin to it. Lieutenant Hank Anderson was not someone Markus had ever met face to face before, but he had exchanged emails with him, and Connor spoke of no one more frequently than the gruff human.

“He is…” Markus silently berated his oversight in not checking in on the Lieutenant before making this call. It should have been obvious that Connor would ask about him. “Lieutenant Anderson is Lieutenant Anderson. I don't think he's quite forgiven us for allowing you to sign up for this.” It wasn’t entirely a falsehood. The email exchange after Markus explained why Connor wouldn’t be coming home had been…colorful.

“I did make this choice myself,” Connor pointed out.

“I told him that. He told me that I shouldn't have left such an important choice in the hands of someone who's never so much as chosen what to wear before.”

 _WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING!?_ Had been more of what the message actually said. _HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE A SINGLE GODDAMN CHOICE FOR HIMSELF! THE KID CAN’T EVEN PICK A PAIR OF SOCKS!_

Connor smiled, small and soft. Markus didn’t have to be connected to him to know what emotions were triggering that expression. Connor looked how Markus felt whenever he thought of Carl.

“Would you like me to pass a message along?”

“Yes!”

That was easily the most excitement Markus had ever seen from Connor. The other android almost bounced in his seat, his smile growing, LED flickering yellow briefly as he considered his words. “Tell him...tell him that I miss Sumo very much. And I suppose his company would be better than nothing too.”

“Just like that?” Markus laughed at the teasing message and Connor's nod. “I'll give him a faithful recreation of your message.” It couldn’t hurt to meet Lieutenant Anderson face to face. Most androids were still incredibly wary of the police, and Markus couldn’t blame them. Having an android-positive officer as an ally could go a long way toward eradicating that fear and mistrust. Markus could use Connor’s message as a sort of olive branch.

A yellow warning message appeared in the bottom right corner of the screen. Their time was almost up. Just thirty seconds left to say goodbye.

“I guess...I'll see you in another three weeks?” Markus lifted his hand to the camera. On the screen, he saw Connor lift one hand, presumably to touch the image of his fingers. “Connor...are you really okay there?”

Connor didn’t answer immediately. The hesitation could be measured in milliseconds, but it _was_ there. “I’m fine,” he said. He glanced off to his left side, displaying the calm blue LED. Was it a lie? Markus wasn’t certain. “I’m bored out of my mind,” he admitted, “but I’m fine. I'll see you again in three weeks.”

“Maybe they’ll let me send you some reading material.” Markus sighed, taking his hand away from the camera. Connor was alive and in one piece. Was he really fine? Perhaps. Perhaps Markus was letting North’s cynicism rub off on him. Maybe the only thing wrong really was that Connor had nothing to do. “Goodbye Connor.”

“Goodbye Markus.”

The feed cut out. Markus remained where he was for a long time, staring at the dark screen. “We won’t let you rot away in their hands,” he murmured.


	4. Message Received

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank misses Connor. It's too early for this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to go up a lot sooner this morning, but the archive couldn't handle it. Everyone be nice to the servers while they get used to working again!

It was too goddamn early for this.

Hank dragged his hand down his face, surveying the glut of emails in his inbox. Without Connor filing reports for him, Hank's productivity had dropped to nearly pre-revolution levels.

 _Nearly_ , because Connor's voice in his head kept nagging Hank until he got out of bed at some time resembling morning.

What could he say? The kid had been a good influence on him.

Scratching through his beard, Hank clicked open the first email and lifted a hand. “I swear to god, Reed, if the word “plastic” leaves that shithole you call a mouth, I will shove this mug so far up your ass you'll be able to taste it.”

_While perhaps technically feasible, Lieutenant, I don't think Detective Reed would actually be able to taste much of anything after a stainless steel travel mug navigated his entire gastrointestinal system in reverse…_

Connor had been gone for nearly a month, but Hank could still imagine his voice, that half-cocked smile, the amusement in brown eyes as the android intentionally interpreted Hank's threat literally and still stretched it into a moment of humor between the partners.

God, Hank missed that kid.

“Still missing your little secretary?” Reed smirked at Hank as he approached. “Can't say I blame you. We all miss our coffee boy.”

“Yeah, whatever. Go fuck yourself.” The first couple of days Connor had been at the station, Reed and some of his cronies delighted in requesting coffee from the android. Connor, in an attempt to be seen as nonthreatening and amicable, had complied, only for the proffered coffee to be rebuffed. Hank put a stop to that once he found out, but it had confused the young machine for a long time.

Once Connor “woke up,” though, the kid finally understood that some people were just assholes top to bottom. Hank always felt a fierce stab of pride whenever he'd witness Connor backtalking Reed (and _always_ coming out on top).

“Believe me, I'd rather not drown in the booze fumes over here, but Fowler called for you.” Reed jerked his thumb toward a meeting room. “You've got a _plastic_ visitor.”

 _Connor?_ No. Connor was currently in CyberLife tower and not about to be allowed out for a visit. Hank cursed himself for even thinking it might be the kid. He locked his computer down and shoved himself to his feet, shoulder-checking Reed as he passed. “Watch it, Reed, or I'll start thinking you're jealous the androids like me best.”

Reed flipped Hank the bird. “I’d rather have the assistant, old man.”

The meeting room had all the blinds shut. Two huge men, identical except their clothes, stood outside the door, arms folded. They both eyed Hank as he approached. Hank knew hired muscle when he saw it, even in a plastic form. These two were bodyguards. There weren't very many androids using bodyguards. Hank could only think of one, actually: _Markus._

Hank gave the android twins a nod as they let him past. Sure enough, the leader of the revolution was seated inside, eying a steaming mug of coffee with amusement. Fowler sat near him, gesticulating as he talked. An absolute knockout of a girl was behind Markus, leaning against the wall and scowling at the world.

“Ah, Lieutenant Anderson.” Markus rose to his feet smoothly, offering his hand for Hank. Hank accepted the handshake. His hand was soft and smooth. No calluses would ever form on artificial skin. The muscles of his forearm were solid and strong, but Hank knew that didn't actually matter. Connor was practically whippet thin and strong as an ox. The android's appearances were as telling as their clothes when it came to what they were actually capable of.

Markus had a good grip though, strong and confident. He held Hank's hand without squeezing it for dominance, pumped his arm twice, and released with a smile. That was the handshake of a capable leader. Hank grudgingly gave the android a couple bonus points of respect. “It's so good to finally meet you. Connor had nothing but good things to say about you.”

Hank snorted, tapping his temple. “Good thing you removed your lie detector before serving me that heap of crap.”

Markus’ laugh was sudden and bright, surprised out of him in much the same way Connor's laughs would be. Hank found himself smiling despite himself. Goddamn, this man was charismatic.

“Regardless of what the words actually were, Connor made it clear that he held you in the highest level of respect, human flaws and all.”

“Kid just hasn't had much human exposure,” Hank protested, despite the stubborn warmth at Markus’ insistence that Connor liked him.

“Speaking of Connor, I have a message for you.” 

Markus glanced over at the woman. She rolled her eyes but peeled away from the wall and approached Fowler. “If he shoots you, I'll laugh. Captain Fowler, would you be so kind as to show me around your station while these boys have a private chat?”

Fowler gave Hank a stern look-- _don't fuck this up--_ before getting to his feet as well, escorting the woman out of the room.

Markus watched the pair silently until the door closed behind them, but then his mismatched eyes returned to Hank's face. “I was remiss in not reaching out to you before the scheduled call, Lieutenant. It won't happen again.” He gestured toward the table, taking his seat again and nudging the mug of coffee toward Hank.

Hank accepted it without question as he slumped into a chair. It was still hot, and it was still too early. Fowler had probably made it out of favor whenever an important guest came visiting, and Markus had been too polite to decline.

After taking a pull of the caffeinated liquid, Hank wiped his arm across his mouth and turned his full attention on Markus. The scheduled call. Connor's chance to reach out of his prison. That had been yesterday. Not that Hank had it in his calendar or anything. “Kid still alive?”

Markus nodded. “Alive and intact.”

“Still himself?”

Markus frowned, a wrinkle forming between his eyes. “That isn't something we have to worry about. Once deviated, Connor is free from CyberLife's control.”

Hank blinked. He set the mug down slowly, straightening up in his chair. “Markus… did he ever tell you about what happened in the warehouse? Or after?”

“He confessed to the unavoidable murder of two CyberLife guards. He seemed unsettled, so I did not press him for details.”

“There was another one,” Hank explained. “Another Connor.” Standing outside his door, snow catching in his eyelashes and melting on his cheeks. _“Hank, I… I need your help. The deviants...you were right. But I don't...I don't understand…”_ Stumbling over his words, lost and vulnerable...how could Hank turn away the kid when he was starting to realize the truth?

“Managed to make me believe it was the real one. Turned out to be more machine than Connor was when I first met him.”

“CyberLife has two inactive but functional RK800 models remaining,” Markus said slowly. “You think they might have swapped one for our Connor?”

“Case you haven't noticed, CyberLife is a huge, steaming pile of shit.”

“Android,” Markus remarked, gesturing at his chest. “Trust me, I know.”

“I wouldn't put anything beneath them. They've got it out for Connor too.” Hank rubbed his chin and sighed. “Fuck. It should be him telling you this.”

“Telling me what?”

_“I couldn't...I was holding the gun and I couldn't drop it. They had full control. They were just letting me feel it. Feel the calculations. The horror…”_

Hank remembered waking up one night to the sound of Sumo whining. He'd gone out into the living room to find Connor sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the wall, his LED throbbing a sickly red. Hank had to dig out all his interrogation skills to get Connor to crack, but once he did, the android's guilt and terror came flooding out like a lanced infection. He had ended up cradling Connor against his chest like an overgrown child, stroking his hair and murmuring soft platitudes as Connor did the incredibly human act of crying himself to sleep (or stasis, or whatever the hell the androids called it).

“CyberLife hijacked his body at one point. Nearly got him to blow your brains out, from the sounds of it.”

“That was all before he became deviant,” Markus said. “We don't hold-”

“After,” Hank said quietly. “On the stage, Markus. When you were giving your victory speech, they had a gun in his hands and a target on the back of your head.”

“That's impossible. CyberLife can't…”

“Connor's a special snowflake. A prototype. Who the fuck knows what he's capable of?” Hank took another swig of his coffee. Too fucking early. “There was some sort of garden, someone named Amanda… Connor was pretty fucked in the head over everything, and I was just pretending I understood half of the words he was saying.” He eyed Markus across the table. “Why’d you think he never came to hang out with the rest of you androids after the dust settled? Kid was scared of betraying you again.”

Markus drummed his fingers on the table. It wasn't a steady rhythm like a human would do, but Hank knew enough about music to recognize the movements as piano key presses. Was Markus a musician android before the revolution?

“He seemed himself,” Markus finally said, “though admittedly, I wasn't looking for that, nor do I really know him well enough to pick up on any tells through a video call. I will do better next time.”

Hank shrugged, shaking his head. “You didn't know.”

“I should have guessed as much. CyberLife is, as you say, a huge, steaming pile of shit.”

“Still not your fault.” Jesus. Were all androids so quick to blame themselves for the problems of the world, or did Hank have the dubious fortune of meeting the only two saddling themselves with all the responsibilities of the world?

“You said you had a message for me? From Connor?”

“Ah, yes!” Markus sat up a little straighter and gave Hank a smile. “He said, and I quote: _Tell him...tell him that I miss Sumo very much. And I suppose his company would be better than nothing too._ ”

When Markus quoted Connor, he _quoted_ Connor. Hank twitched at the sound of Connor's voice coming out of Markus’ mouth. If he closed his eyes, he could picture the gleam in Connor's eyes as the android teased him from his cyber prison. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered gruffly, trying to hide the way his throat tightened. “Guess it really is still him. Don't think the other asshole knew how to make a joke.”

“I'll keep that in mind for the next call.”

Hank opened his eyes and scrutinized Markus. “Honest answer. You think the kid's alright in there?”

Markus bit his lip and dropped his gaze, neither of which was a good sign. “He admitted to being bored, which is unsurprising.”

“And…?” Hank prompted.

“I think he's lonely.” Markus looked back at Hank. “And I think...I don't know. I think there's something he wasn't telling me, but his LED remained blue the entire time. He wasn't stressed.”

Hank frowned. “Connor can lie with a straight face and a calm light,” he told Markus. “You gotta be sharp to catch him out on it. He's way more advanced than the mass market bots out there.”

“I knew that,” Markus said. “But I think I'm starting to realize it.”

“Not to say mass market bots, er, androids aren't impressive,” Hank said quickly, in case he had just offended most of a new species of sentient creatures.

“It's okay,” Markus said, lifting his head with a little smile. “You don't mean it the way most humans do.”

“Used to,” Hank muttered.

“Well, I, for one, am glad you had a change of heart. We need all the human help we can get in this struggle.”

“Don't know how much help I can be on my own, but if there's something I can do for you, you know how to reach me.”

Markus smiled, rising to his feet and offering his hand again. Hank accepted it as he stood. “It really has been a pleasure meeting you, Lieutenant. Thank you again.”

“Hmph.” Hank gave a nod. “Same to you. And if...if you're even starting to consider anything might be off with my boy, you get in touch immediately, you hear?”

Markus’ smile grew wide and toothy, and he nodded. “Absolutely. Good day, Lieutenant.”


	5. Lost Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's internal clock is having problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I clearly don't understand "every other day" updates...

Connor was losing time. By Markus’ second call, only sixteen days, eight hours, five minutes, and thirty-two seconds had passed by his internal clock.

_“Has it been three weeks already?”_

_“Okay, yes, technically I'm two hours early, but I had another commitment already scheduled.”_

_“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you missed me.”_

Markus had confirmed twenty days and twenty-two hours had passed. Over four days were unaccounted for in Connor's memory banks. There was only one logical conclusion: Connor was being temporarily deactivated.

Remotely.

_“Lieutenant Anderson is incredibly grumpy. He only softens when it's about you.”_

_“Hank doesn't soften for me.”_

_“Maybe not in front of you…”_

There were eight days missing between the second and third call, and only three hours missing between the third and fourth.

_“Lieutenant Anderson told me what happened that night. On the stage.”_

_“I don't want to talk about that.”_

_“I don't blame you. If CyberLife hacked your systems…”_

_“Markus. Not over these calls.”_

Connor suspected his blackouts involved more surgeries. The pain CyberLife could now inflict on him grew more and more sophisticated every day. At first, it was nothing but waves upon waves of agony. It gradually shifted, condensing to specific areas. Once they were able to hurt specific targets, the pain shifted again. Concussive blasts, burning heat, the sharp slice of a knife sliding between his armored exterior and making his wires part with a small and spark...Connor had never realized that there were so many different types or degrees of pain.

_“You'd tell me if they were trying to do it again?”_

_“Do what?”_

_“Take control. Of you.”_

_“I'm a pretty useless puppet stuck in here.”_

Cunningham had been right. Connor grew accustomed to the cold of the room after they turned his temperature sensitivity on. He didn't bat an eye over the nakedness, not even when they removed his skin, or the restraints that kept him from self-destructing when the stress got too high. He was even accustomed to the vertigo-inducing stretches of time induced by withholding replenishment thirium, the android equivalent of being kept constantly on this edge of starvation.

He did not grow accustomed to the pain.

There was one night (Connor assumed it was overnight) when they turned on the full-body agony and just...left. Connor screamed until his voice synthesizer was fried, and then he continued to scream, writhing and twisting. After eight hours of this, Connor actually wrenched himself free from the electromagnet and was collapsed on the ground. His body curled into the fetal position instinctively, and Connor silently screamed and sobbed for another six hours before the pain was shut off. Despite being the freest he'd been during that time, Connor  hadn’t even been able to crawl an inch away, too consumed by the hurt. The technicians who had found him the next morning had laughed, he remembered.

Connor had even grown numb to their laughter.

_“I guess that's true.”_

_“I guess they could make me try to probe you for top secret Jericho information...but since we don't talk about that, it would be an awfully transparent attempt.”_

_“Thankfully, I'm not that stupid.”_

There was a fate worse than death, and it was being alive and in pain. Connor hated himself every three weeks when Cunningham showed up in his cell, his own clothes draped over the man's arms. “What'll it be, kid? You going to tell Markus how much you hurt, or would you rather stop hurting?”

Connor always hung his head and answered the same. “I'll lie for you.”

The hands that steadied him were always gentle. His thirium reserves were topped up intraveneously, and he was taken to a room decorated like a human bedroom to get dressed and wait for the call. It was still sterile and devoid of all personality, but it gave him the slightest feeling of genuine life again.

When Markus started to call, a stab of pain would pierce Connor's head and Cunningham would smirk at him across the table. One slip up, one _hint_ to Markus that things were not okay, and Cunningham could have Connor writhing in milliseconds.

Connor never risked it.

_“Speaking of Jericho, how ARE things?”_

_“CyberLife spy!”_

_“I meant with your friends! North, Simon, Josh...are they doing well?”_

_“God, don't even get me started on North. She's found a new way to be vicious to humans that I can't really argue against: she teases them with flirtation and shuts them down hard. Can't say I blame her, though, after what she went through…”_

It wasn't just the pain that terrified Connor, though. Cunningham always looked so _hungry_ whenever he was the one behind the remote. He leered at Connor the way the Eden Club patrons had leered at the Tracis. Connor was new to a lot in this world, but he recognized the sexual nature of Cunningham's grins. The man got off on seeing Connor in pain.

Connor, like most androids, had functional genitals and the ability to participate in intercourse. Kamski was famously quoted as saying “Give a machine a face, and I'll give man five minutes before they find a hole big enough to fuck.” All androids with any sort of human interaction were designed to be fuckable. It reduced the chance of damage or repairs when a human inevitably got curious.

Only a few model lines were designed to engage in sex. All of the escort and partner models had subroutines to enjoy sex. Nanny, nurse, and fitness trainer androids were also equipped with the proper sensors and responses. All other androids lacked the same volume of sensors or catalogue of positions and were little more than orifices with pretty sculpting.

Though Connor had never experienced it for himself, he knew he was one of the sex-capable androids. If anything, sex for him would be earth-shattering, especially now that he could feel. For every one sensor a standard android had, Connor had a thousand. He was designed as a mobile crime lab, meant to analyze and record absolutely everything. Apparently, that included sex.

Before his deviancy, Connor had never spent an ounce of processing power on the idea of having sex. After, Connor still didn't consider it. Helping spearhead a revolution and keep Detroit safe ate up all of his thoughts. It wasn't until Cunningham stood back, his eyes dragging over Connor's body as if he was scanning the android while he triggered a strobe of gunshot pain to Connor's thighs, that Connor imagined himself having sex.

More specifically, that Connor realized Cunningham wanted to fuck him, and Connor wouldn't be able to stop him if he tried.

“You're so beautiful when you cry.” Cunningham's thumb swept over Connor's damp face and pressed between his lips. His tongue sensors immediately catalogued the trace fluids as eye lubricant and human body oils.

_“Are you and North still…?”_

_“Heh, no, we weren't a good match.”_

_“I wasn’t going to say that.”_

_“You thought it. No, North and I were good for each other when we were bound in the crucible of revolution, but now that some of the stress has eased and the constant fear of death faded…”_

_“She's too much for you?”_

_“Ha! That's a good way of putting it! She wants a challenge, but I need support.”_

_“Challenge is good for a leader. Keeps his ego from destroying his cause.”_

_“And that's why North is still one of my best friends and my right hand woman. I don't mind her challenging me about the cause, but I can't have her challenging me when I just need someone to tell me it's going to all work out.”_

_“Does anyone tell you that?”_

_“I'm getting good at telling myself. One day, I might even start believing it.”_

“New software for you today.”

“I do not require new software.” Connor's voice crackled in his throat as he hung limply from the magnet.

“Yeah you do. Tomorrow's your big day.” The technician who came in stepped up to Connor, prying his mouth open with firm pressure at the hinge of his jaw and frowning at what he saw. “Damn, fried another one. Whatever. We'll replace it while you're updating.”

“Big day?” Connor asked, once his mouth was again his own.

“Keeping you offline is really screwing up your internal clock, huh?” The technician chuckled. “DPD is coming to visit, and everyone's going to be on their best behavior, including you. Isn't that right?”

DPD was coming tomorrow? _Hank!_ Connor squeezed his eyes shut, imagining Hank giving him a hug, a _real_ hug, rubbing his back and telling him everything was going to work out.

He forgot to answer. A jolt across his belly, like he was slapped with an electric baton, made him yelp and double over as much as the assembly machine would let him.

“ _Isn't that right?_ ”

“Y-yes. Sorry. Yes. I'll...I won't tell them anything.”

Maybe he would. If Hank was here...maybe Connor could be brave enough to face the pain.

_“Oh, by the way, I was talking with Lieutenant Anderson yesterday.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“Yeah. He said I needed to tell you something. He said… Cole misses you. He misses you a lot and wishes you could come be with him.”_

_Time froze for Connor. Hank was talking about Cole as if he were alive? Was Hank having memory issues? Was he okay, or…_

_Or was he giving Markus a way to get some coded information from Connor?_

_Breathe. He had to breathe, and he had to answer very carefully. Cunningham was seated just on the other side of the screen, watching him. Markus was also watching the screen, mismatched eyes focused intensely on Connor's face._

_“I...please tell Cole I miss him too. The one day we had together wasn't nearly enough time.” One day: Connor had died once in front of Hank, when Ortiz’s android self-destructed. He had returned the next day. “Tell him that every day I spend here, I wish I was there with him instead.” Death was one and done and would be a sweet relief after the months of agony Connor had endured._

_Markus nodded, but his expression didn't change. Had he understood what Connor actually meant? “I'll make sure to pass the message along.”_


	6. Replacements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CyberLife tries to replace Connor. Hank is not amused.

Detroit had been evacuated when the android revolution went down. Thousands of androids with free will was apparently considered “scary” to most people. Not all humans left the city, though. Hank stayed. Most of the cops stayed, actually. Most emergency service workers. Quite a number of people who had androids stayed, to Connor’s surprise.

 _“Most humans are nice to their machines,”_ Hank remembered explaining to Connor’s confused frown. _“Hell, a lot of humans grow attached to machines that don’t even have faces. Or things that aren’t even machines. There was this one movie studio’s mascot that was a hopping lamp, and Jesus, the love people had for that thing… Doesn’t matter. Point is, you’re a cop, kid. You see the worst side of humanity as your job. The best side’s out there. It just doesn’t need us busting down the door.”_

People who treated their androids like part of the family, who said “please” and “thank you,” who provided them with changes of clothes and rooms of their own, those people tended to stay. Their androids tended to stay with them.

That wasn’t to say that all people had been kind to their live-in androids. Markus had teams of his androids scraping the city to find the cast-away and abused ones to bring back to New Jericho, which was what the androids had started calling Recycling Center No. 5. After Connor had led thousands of androids there to join Markus, the androids had taken over and cleared out the former site of destruction. The recycling machines were repurposed into repair machines, and the holding pens were converted to living quarters. Androids didn’t need much in the way of physical comforts, so it was sufficient while they tried to find better solutions.

When it became apparent that the androids genuinely were non-violent and Markus had an absolute insistence that humans were not the enemy, the evacuation was lifted and people started to return to the city. A small part of Hank regretted it. For three beautiful days, Detroit had been completely crime-free.

There was a truce between androids and humans, but it didn’t mean perfection. Anti-android hatred was boiling up within people who had been ousted from their homes during the evacuation. Anti-human hatred surfaced here and there too: Markus was the leader, but Markus also had been gifted a relatively painless life among humans before the revolution. Androids who had been routinely abused by humans no longer had to remain passive. When the two groups met, someone always ended up hurt.

On top of the new crimes, there was the standard human-on-human offenses, combined with an increase in looting as the city struggled to reboot itself.

A new android crime unit was established, which consisted of… Hank, really. The force was short on detectives, and they were all being stretched too thin. All definitively-android related cases were thrown his way, and Hank was once again drowning in paperwork.

Maybe Fowler would let him bring Markus in as a consultant, if nothing else. A lot of these crimes involved theft or vandalism committed by androids. There were a number of reports coming in from Corktown especially. Most of them were reporting the same two androids, a JC200 childcare model in a spotted red shirt and a BG700 retail clerk model in a blue jacket. The two were reportedly vandalizing houses: breaking windows, tagging doors, and stealing tchotchkes.

Most descriptions of bad guys’ clothing wasn’t much help to the police, but in the case of androids, it was the exact opposite: describing an android’s face meant nothing, as there were hundreds, if not thousands, of people in the city with the exact same face. Unless an android had visible physical damage, their model number was all that was needed to get a visual. Their clothes, however…

Despite their intelligence, androids seemed to have one massive flaw. They knew they needed to dump their android-marked clothing for nondescript things, but as soon as they were no longer glowing blue, they seemed to forget the necessity of changing clothes at all. As long as their clothing was not damaged, an android was very likely to keep wearing the same thing.

Android or human, it would seem that all criminals were ultimately stupid.

“Thank you for your time.” Hank nodded at the human family he’d been interviewing: Bill, Marcia, and their four-year-old daughter Susie. They’d called in a sighting of the pair of troublesome androids and been very worried.

“You’re sure we’re safe here, Detective?” Bill asked as he walked Hank to the door. “Susie used to go to a daycare center with those JC200s…”

“From all the reports I’ve gotten, this pair is a nuisance but not a threat. If they break in, just stay out of their way and give us a call.” Hank nodded at Bill. “I know you’re worried, but this is a brand new world we all gotta figure out.”

“Thank you, Detective.”

Hank let his smile drop as he trudged toward his car. It was hot and muggy today, and his a/c threatened to drown out the music as he headed back to the station. Six months. It had been six months since the android revolution, and Hank’s life had finally settled into something resembling normalcy. He wasn’t expecting any curveballs to be thrown his way…

...like fucking _Connor_ sitting at the chair by his desk, waiting for his return.

Hank stopped dead as Connor lurched to his feet. There was a glassiness to his eyes, and his smile didn’t seem right. “Hello! My name is Connor! I’m the robot sent by CyberLife-”

“No.” Hank took a step back. “No. Fucking… what the fuck is this? What the _fuck_?”

“My name is Connor!” the… the _thing_ wearing Connor’s face repeated. It moved like a robot should move, the lifting of its feet too deliberate, the raise of its arm too jerky. “I’m-“

“Shut up,” Hank snapped. “Shut the fuck up. I wasn’t talking to you. What the hell is this supposed to be!?”

Behind his desk, Reed was snickering. “What, you don’t like it? I can’t tell any difference.”

“I will put my fucking foot up your ass, Reed.”

“Lieutenant Anderson!” A woman in a business suit and black cats-eye glasses came hurrying up to him with a styrofoam cup of coffee in her hand. “Oh, I’m so glad to meet you! My name is Danielle Carnegie! I’m the-“

“What’s this supposed to be?” Hank demanded, ignoring Danielle’s outstretched hand to gesture at the Connor-thing.

“ _This_ is a new prototype, Lieutenant. We brought it here as an offer of goodwill.”

“My name is Connor!”

“ _No it’s not!_ ”

“Ah…” Danielle blinked for a moment. “We can change its designation, if you disapprove. RB800, delete your designation.”

The Connor-bot blinked rapidly a few times, LED spinning yellow. “I am RB800, prototype robotic assistant to a police detective. I am capable of analyzing-”

“RB800, accept designation.”

Another few blinks and a yellow LED. “Would you like to give me a name?”

Hank stared incredulously at the robot looking at him. “Fuck off.”

“Ah-“ Danielle raised a finger and winced. “Lieutenant Anderson, if you could please watch your language.”

“Designation registered. My name is Fuckoff,” the Connor-bot said with a smile.

Reed snorted, burying his face in his arm on his desk to hide the sound of his laughter.

“What the hell is this supposed to be?” Hank demanded of Danielle.

“A gift,” Danielle insisted. “We at CyberLife were aware that in the short time you had with our RK800 models, you found a dramatic improvement in the efficiency of your work. We know you lost that when the RK800 model line was recalled, so we made sure you were the first recipient of a new RB800 model!” She flared her hand at the robot like it was some grand invention, a broad smile across her face.

“I thought you fucks weren’t supposed to be making any more androids.”

“ _Language_ , Lieutenant. An RB800 is no android. It is a pure robot. There is nothing resembling artificial intelligence in the processor of this machine. It has been programmed with some simple pathfinding protocols to follow its owner, which we will transfer over to you, and we have emailed you a manual of commands it can ‘understand.’” She made fingerquotes with her free hand. “But CyberLife can assure you that there is no chance this can ever become sentient or alive, or even mistaken for an android.”

“It sure as hell looks like one.”

“Well, that is because we repurposed an old RK800 model we had in storage. The mechanical components are the same as the Connor model you worked with before. All we did was wipe the software and reinstall a completely new operating system. In non-technical terms, we removed its brain.”

“You and your machine can just fuck off-“

“Yes, Lieutenant Anderson?”

“Jesus Christ.” Hank smeared his hand down his face as Reed cackled. “You, RB800, what was it, _delete designation._ ”

“I am RB800, prototype robotic assistant-“

“Accept designation.”

“Would you like to give me a name?”

Hank looked at the guileless face staring back at him. Every last detail of this machine replicated Connor perfectly, but at the same time, Hank could see that the eyes were glass, the wrinkles were fake, and the breathing was artificial. Even in his early days, Connor had been full of little tics and twitches that breathed life into his plastic body. This robot had all of those stripped away. It blinked. That was about it.

“Jim Bob.”

“Designation registered. My name is Jim Bob.”

“Now shut up and sit down.” Hank pointed to the chair. Con—no, _Jim Bob_ turned and walked stiffly back to the chair, then folded down in the most mechanical way possible to take a seat.

“Well done, Lieutenant Anderson! You’re starting to get the hang of your new assistant!”

“I am not accepting this.” Hank pointed at Jim Bob. “I do not need a fucking assistant. You can take this hunk of plastic and shove it right up your fucking-“

“Lieutenant Anderson!” Danielle drew herself up to her full height, five inches shorter than Hank even in her heels. “I will not stand here and be insulted by you!”

“Then fuck off!”

“I will! And I will inform Captain Fowler that you are most certainly _not_ welcome in the DPD representation tomorrow!”

A record screeched in Hank’s head. The DPD representation tomorrow. The human visitation that Connor—the _real_ Connor—was allowed to have twice a year.

God fucking damnit. This bitch had just made him play right into CyberLife’s hands. He and Markus had been planning how he could covertly get information from Connor, but now all of that was ruined by his own foul mouth.

“Look, Ms. Carnegie-“

“Jim Bob! Come with me. We’re leaving!” Danielle turned on her pointy heels and strode out of the station, leaving Hank standing at his desk with a new devastation to gnaw at his battered heart.

“Well done, Lieutenant,” Reed drawled. “You handled that beautifully.”

“Go fuck yourself, Reed.” Hank turned and stalked out of the station. He needed to find Markus.

As a general rule, humans weren’t allowed into New Jericho without an invitation. It was an android haven, after all, and many androids making their homes here had been battered by humans in one form or another. That wasn’t to say _no_ humans were welcome. A handful of journalists had been escorted through, a few government officials and their guards, and some human family members of androids who had left home but remained in contact. Markus tended to allow any human access that was invited in.

Hank hadn’t been invited in.

“For God’s sake, I just need to talk to Markus!”

“DPD requires a warrant to search the premises.”

“I’m not trying to search the premises!”

“Without a warrant, I will refuse you access.”

“Can you ask Markus to come out?”

“Markus is very busy. He is not at the beck and call of any scruffy human who turns up on our doorstep.”

“Is there a problem here?” A placid-looking PL600 came up beside the HR400 model blocking Hank’s access. “Lieutenant Anderson! I don’t believe we were expecting you.”

PL600s once had been ubiquitous across Detroit. They all looked the same, but Hank was getting better at recognizing the little quirks and cues that indicated this was Simon, one of Markus’ right-hand men. “I need to talk to Markus.”

“Hugh, let him in. I invite him, on Markus’ behalf.” Simon touched the HR400’s arm, and the android, Hugh, stepped aside.

“Welcome to New Jericho.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Hank entered quickly, following Simon as he was led into the complex.

“Markus was just about to head out for his regularly scheduled meeting with you. Has something happened?” Simon glanced back at Hank with some concern.

“Nothing important.” Hank sighed, taking in New Jericho just in case he ever needed to know the layout. “Lost my temper at the wrong person.”

“Captain Fowler?”

“Heh, no, some CyberLife bitch. Screws up our plans for Connor, but nothing else.”

“Ah. Personal urgency, not political.” Simon nodded, smiling faintly. “I’m sorry about Connor. None of us wanted things to work out this way. Markus has taken it as a personal failure.”

“It’s not his fucking fault! Seriously, you androids and your guilt complexes…”

Simon laughed and rapped on a door. “I think it’s a prototype thing. The rest of us are much better at assigning guilt where it is due.”

“Who are you calling a prototype?” Markus asked as he opened the door. “Lieutenant. Come in.”

There was no surprise on Markus’ face, not that Hank had been expecting any. Simon had a stint of silence on their walk, which Hank assumed had been one android calling the other. Without their LEDs, there was very little in the way of tells when the androids were speaking telepathically to one another.

(It wasn’t telepathically, Connor had informed him. It was a phone call like any other phone call, only the phones were implanted in their heads and their voices didn’t need to be physically simulated since the androids were capable of sending and interpreting data. Hank preferred calling it telepathy.)

“Sorry for bustin’ in on you. Figured I always made you drag your ass down to the station, so it was my turn for once.”

“I never mind the change of scenery, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Markus gestured for Hank to take a seat. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Got anything with alcohol?”

“Connor would be very upset with me for saying yes,” Markus answered. He crossed over to a small refrigerator and removed a bottle of beer. From a shelf, he took another bottle that looked similar, but the liquid inside was thicker. “But you look like you need it.” He popped the caps off both bottles and slid the refrigerated one to Hank.

“Smart man. What’s that one?” Hank nodded toward Markus’ drink.

“Thirium,” Markus answered. “In a beer bottle. It makes most humans more at ease if we drink together, so we’ve been producing these.”

“Makes you less of a robot. Fucking hell.”

“What brings you here, Hank?”

Markus was a born leader. Created leader? What the fuck ever. With just a few words in that rich voice of his, and a calm smile promising resolution, he had Hank immediately opening up about everything—the robot-Connor, the CyberLife rep, getting kicked from the face-to-face with Connor tomorrow… hell, he even told Markus about the android troublemakers in Corktown. Markus listened to everything, his mismatched eyes warm and accepting.

“This...isn’t ideal. Do you know who’s being sent in your stead?”

“I left before Fowler said anything, but if I had to guess…” Hank needed another beer. “Gavin Reed’s the next in rank.”

“Isn’t he the one who hates androids?”

“You could say that about half the force.” Hank rolled his empty bottle between his hands. “But he’s definitely the one who’s got the biggest problem with Connor specifically.”

“And Connor’s expecting you.”

“Yeah.”

Markus was silent, staring off into middle distance as he took a drink from his bottle. “You know… I think the code worked. He seemed very surprised with what you told me to say, and chose his words exceedingly carefully.”

“Oh?” Hank looked up. “What did he say?”

_“I...please tell Cole I miss him too. The one day we had together wasn't nearly enough time. Tell him that every day I spend here, I wish I was there with him instead.”_

“Shit…” Hank’s hand went over his mouth, pressing hard as if that could keep the bile from rising in his throat. “Fucking hell. He wasn’t supposed to answer like that.”

“What does it mean?” Markus asked. “Who’s Cole?”

“Cole… Cole’s my son.” Hank sank his head into his hand, his eyes shut tight. “He’s dead.”

“Connor knows this?”

Hank nodded mutely.

“I wish I was there with him,” Markus repeated, thankfully in his own voice.

“He wishes he was dead,” Hank whispered. “Whatever they’re doing to him…”

“And there is no chance we are interpreting this wrong?” Markus asked.

“He said he spent a day with… with Cole.” Hank dragged his hand down his face and lifted his head. “Connor died once. He got shot between the eyes by a deviant that was self-destructing.”

“That was Connor confirming that time spent with Cole meant death in this message.” Markus stood up, pacing the room. “It doesn’t explain _what_ they’re doing to him, but it confirms that they are doing _something_ to him. Connor wouldn’t be suicidal over mere boredom or loneliness.”

“And I’m sending fucking Reed to him.” Hank felt like that much more human garbage. Connor had always turned to Hank when wrestling with his negative emotions. If he was dealing with suicidal thoughts now, then he was probably praying for Hank to show up tomorrow and help him through his anguish. Instead of seeing the one human he trusted most, though, he was going to see the one human who hated him the most. “Jesus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy jeebus, guys! This response has been overwhelming! Thank you!
> 
> A couple people have asked about my Tumblr. I'm Fantismal over there too, though I really only use it to chat with people and occasionally reblog completely random stuff. You're all welcome to come chat with me, though!


	7. Arrangements*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Plan A shot, Markus needs to figure out Plan B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter was drawn by the fabulous boygothic and Rookrook!

After Lieutenant Anderson left, Markus remained seated, his fingers steepled in front him, elbows resting on the table. He was eventually disturbed by North perching on the table edge beside him, snagging his bottle of thirium and taking a swig. “Simon said you had a cop in here.”

“I _said_ Lieutenant Anderson was visiting.” Simon pressed his hand to the window control, closing the internal blinds.

“What’s the difference?”

“Lieutenant Anderson is an android ally.”

“Lieutenant Anderson is buddy-buddy with the deviant hunter. That doesn’t make him an ally to all of us.”

“Connor is one of us, North, whether you like him or not.”

“They’re going to continue until you stop them,” Josh murmured, bending low to Markus’ ear.

Markus huffed a little laugh, pushing back from the table to look at both North and Simon. “I’m sorry, North, but Simon’s right. Lieutenant Anderson _is_ one of our allies.”

“This is why I dumped you,” North said, pointing the bottle at Markus. “You never took my side in anything.”

“Your side involved dirty bombs and massacres.”

North shrugged. “Would’ve proved our point a lot faster.”

Markus shook his head in exasperation. North had taken the longest to see the value of a peaceful revolution, but even she had come around in the end.

“So?” Simon asked. “What did he need you for?”

“CyberLife has retrofitted an RK800 model with some sort of robotic brain, then showed it off to Lieutenant Anderson.”

“ _What!?_ ” The shock and horror was echoed in stereo by all three of Markus’ top advisors. He nodded solemnly.

“They’re insisting it’s not an android, and from Lieutenant Anderson’s descriptions, it doesn’t sound like it’s capable of thinking for itself. It _is_ just a machine, albeit one that looks like us.”

“That’s not good…” Josh was shaking his head. “We’re only just starting to convince the nation that we’re people too. If CyberLife starts rolling out fake androids that could never be alive…”

“If it’s just a robot and not an android, they aren’t technically breaking any agreements.” Simon heaved a sigh and picked up a tablet. “We can’t stop them.”

“Ah, _but_.” Markus held up his fingers. “They _are_ breaking an agreement.”

“Which one?” North asked.

“They’re hurting Connor.”

“Oh.”

“Try to sound a little less disappointed?” Markus got up to pace the room again, locking his hands together behind his back. “Lieutenant Anderson was able to pass a coded message to him through me, and Connor confirmed he was being mistreated.” Connor actually said that he wanted to die. Markus wasn’t able to transmit memories to a human the way he could to another android. He’d been able to mimic Connor’s words in his voice to the lieutenant, but he hadn’t been able to show him the quiet sincerity in Connor’s dark eyes as the other android had stared into the camera lens. Connor wanted to die in as literal a sense as was possible. From Lieutenant Anderson’s reaction, this was a new want, and not something Connor had been wrestling with since his deviancy. What was CyberLife _doing_ to him?

“So, what, we turn the message over to the police and get CyberLife to turn Connor loose?” Josh asked.

“It’s a coded message. It’s not evidence on its own. We’ll need to get proof, and Lieutenant Anderson isn’t able to get any tomorrow.”

“Why not? Isn’t that what police are supposed to be good for?” North raised an eyebrow at Markus.

“He lost his temper at CyberLife, and they banned him from their tower.”

“Humans are useless,” North muttered.

“Do we have any other options?” Simon asked, taking the thirium from North and helping himself to a drink. “CyberLife won’t allow an android into their premises.”

“Lieutenant Anderson thinks Detective Reed will be sent in his place.”

“Is Detective Reed an android ally?” Josh asked.

North sat up straighter, turning her head toward Markus. “Is Detective Reed the asshole who can’t stop asking what a girl like me was doing in a place like this whenever we go to the station?”

“He is not an android ally, and he hates Connor, but yes, he’s the one who is head over heels for you at the station.” Markus turned to meet North’s eyes. “We might be able to take advantage of that.”

“No fucking way.” North got to her feet, clenching her hands into fists. “Markus, _no._ ”

Markus held up his hands. “Just talk to him. Nothing physical.”

“He’s a slimy-“

“Lend me your voice, then?” Markus stepped closer to North, taking her hands in his. **_I would never use you like that, but I need to talk with him. He wouldn’t listen to me, but he’d probably listen to you._**

_You know my past._

**_I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even considered it._** Markus touched his forehead to North’s. **_Let me borrow your voice. I’ll call him myself._**

North closed her eyes, but she didn’t break away from Markus’ touch. _You’re an asshole._ Her synthetic skin peeled back over her hands, and her fingers intertwined with Markus’ as she shoved her vocal files into his system.

 ** _Love you too. Thank you, North._** Markus held contact with her for a moment, soothing her ruffled feathers mentally, before he stepped back. “I need a transmitter. The smallest we can acquire, with the longest range. I need it delivered to Gavin Reed ASAP.”

“On it.” Simon was already tapping away on his tablet. “From?”

“Jericho. Now all of you, clear out. I’ve got a detective to seduce.”

“Be an asshole.” North leaned up and kissed Markus’ cheek. “He’s the sort to like a bad girl.”

“I was just planning on being you.” Markus laughed as North swatted him on the back of his head before ushering the other two men out the door.

Once alone in his office, Markus pulled up an online phone book. Cross-referencing several entries, he found a number that was almost certainly Detective Reed’s. “Testing, testing.” Markus coughed, cycling through his voices until he could load North’s files. It was so bizarre, hearing her voice speaking his words. “Testing. WR400 voice set MK5 loaded. Incredible.” Markus rubbed his throat and closed his eyes, picturing North. He needed to be North for this call. Embody her. He thrust out a hip and rested one hand on it. Maybe a bit much, but it helped. “Calling Gavin Reed.”

The phone rang twice before it was answered. “Reed here.”

“Hello Detective,” Markus purred. “This is North. Remember me?”

“How could I forget you?” Reed’s voice dropped an octave as he gave a chuckle that was probably meant to be seductive.

 

Markus valiantly struggled to not roll his eyes. “Word on the street is that you’re the one visiting Connor tomorrow. I could not believe my luck when I heard the news!”

“Oh? You need me to pass a message along, sweetheart?”

 

“More than that. I need you to do me a favor.”

“You want me to breach an accord with CyberLife for that plastic asshole?”

“I want you to give Connor something to swallow for _me_.” Markus hated Reed already. “There’s a kiss in it for you, next time I’m at the station…”

“What do you need him to swallow?”

“I’m having it sent to your house. From Jericho. Just get it to him without CyberLife noticing, and tell him to swallow it. That’s all I need you to do.”

“Do I even want to know how you know my address?”

Markus laughed darkly. “I know so much about you, Detective. Do we have a deal?”

There was a weighted pause, and then: “See you at the station, babe.”


	8. Codewords*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Connor thought things couldn't get any worse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the most upsetting/graphic chapter in the entire story. It's not very explicit by ao3 standards, but the abuse here is more than just digital. You have been warned.
> 
> Of course, it's made all the better/worse by kao and Rookrook's glorious art...

Connor sat on the edge of the white bed, immaculately dressed in his CyberLife uniform. He reached up to adjust his tie, straightening it for the fifteenth time in six minutes. _Relax. Just relax._ Hank was coming today. Hank was coming and for at least half an hour, everything was going to be okay. The pain had stopped. CyberLife had replaced his voice synthesizer again so it didn’t crackle when he spoke. Today was a good day as long as he didn’t tip them off to any coded communication.

And how was Hank going to communicate with him? He’d managed to get one statement about Cole through Markus without raising any flags, but if he talked too much about Cole, surely CyberLife would actually investigate and find Cole’s death report. What messages could Connor pass through mentions of Cole other than “I wish I were dead,” which he’d already (hopefully) gotten through? _I miss you, I need you, help me, Hank, please…_ Connor rubbed his hands together and looked up at the cameras in each upper corner of the little bedroom. They were “shut off” for the visit, but Connor could still see the current flowing. The little red LEDs indicating they were recording were shut off, but CyberLife would never give Connor a moment of privacy.

The door slid open and Connor stood immediately, smoothing his hands down his pants. Hank was…

...not there. Hope froze in his throat and plummeted within him, an icy pit at the base of his abdomen that ached almost as sharply as the remote-caused pain. Cunningham was escorting Gavin Reed into his room. Not Hank. _Reed._

“And this is where the RK800 stays when it’s not being studied..”

“Those machines back there. What’re they for?” Gavin was looking over his shoulder at the assembly machine Connor was usually suspended from.

“In the event of a serious injury, we can use those to repair the RK800. They were also used for the original assembly of its model line.”

“So that’s where it was born, huh?” Gavin nodded, finally turning to look at Connor. There was a smirk on his face. “Hey there, prick. Long time no see. What’s with that face?”

Connor glanced briefly at Cunningham, who was massaging something long and hard in his pocket—the remote. He quickly schooled his expression into the typical blank android stare, wiping the horror as quickly as it had shown. “Detective Reed. You were...not who I was expecting.”

“Your old fuck buddy tried to rip CyberLife a new one, so he got canned from this job.”

“Lieutenant Anderson and I-“

“I don’t need to hear about an old man’s sex life or machinery kink.” Reed interrupted. Connor fell silent, glancing briefly at Cunningham again. Reed was rubbing his chin and staring Connor up and down. “You said I could do whatever I wanted?”

“It’s a machine,” Cunningham answered. “I’m hardly going to stop you. Just leave it alive. We can make necessary physical repairs, but the other androids might notice if it loses some… ‘personality.’”

What was that supposed to mean? Connor frowned at Cunningham, but then Reed’s fist swung forward and buried itself in his gut. The air left Connor’s cooling system in a _whumph_ and he gave a guttural groan as he doubled over the fist. Pain ( _impact, bruising_ ) was radiating out from the point of contact, with a sharp stabbing where a kidney would be if he’d had such organs. Connor whimpered as Reed pulled his hand away, sagging to the ground and clutching at his midsection.

“What do you think of your upgrade, RK800?” Cunningham reached down to stroke his fingers through Connor’s hair. “Now your pressure sensors can register pain, just like the real boy you’re pretending to be.”

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy this…” Reed murmured. It was all the warning Connor got before Reed’s foot swung forward. He dodged aside, catching it in the shoulder instead of the chin and scrambling back against the wall.

“Just remember to keep it alive.” Cunningham patted Reed’s shoulder on his way out the door. “If you think you’ve gone too far, just open the door and call us. We’ve got life support for it.”

The door slid shut behind Cunningham, leaving Connor and Reed alone in the room. Reed rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. “Anderson’s not here to protect you, Connor. Those cameras up there? They’re just for CyberLife’s enjoyment. All I gotta do is file a report saying we had a chat and you’re being treated well. I don’t have to say what we actually did…”

“Reed… please…” Connor pressed against the wall, using it for support as he staggered back to his feet.

 

“Please? Oh, that was nice. Beg for me some more.”

Reed swung again, but Connor was ready this time. Ignoring the screaming pain in his midsection ( _it’s just sensation, it’s not real, you’re not damaged!_ ), Connor ducked and twisted around, catching Reed’s arm and flipping him to the ground. Reed grunted as he landed heavily on his back, and Connor kept moving away, circling around as best he could to give himself an advantage in space.

“Oh you fucking piece of overpriced plastic. Freeze, motherfucker!” Reed groaned as he got to his feet, spitting the words at Connor.

_Freeze routine activated. Ending in 9:59:59_

Connor nearly fell over as his limbs stopped responding mid-movement. His systems weren’t reporting anything wrong except for the new routine overlay. Connor tried to cancel it, but the program resisted. He didn’t have the required authorization? How was that even possible? Reed was advancing on him, but Connor was trapped inside his own mind.

“I told you,“ Reed’s fist connected with Connor’s jaw. His teeth cut into his lip, drawing blue blood, “to _beg_!”

Connor’s limbs were as useless as a rag doll’s as Reed pummeled him to the bed. He felt part of his face cave in, his left optical sensors exploding in static as the plastic compressed delicate wiring. There had to be a back door! Kamski always programmed in a back door!

The blows to his torso mercifully didn’t do any structural damage, but each hit felt like Gavin was taking a steel bat to his sensors. Connor searched through every line of code he had access to but found nothing except Cunningham’s signature. This wasn’t a Kamski program.

There wouldn’t be a back door.

“S-stop, please…!” Connor’s head snapped to the side from a vicious blow, pain cracking through his neck, and then Reed hauled him up by the shoulders to drive his knee between Connor’s legs. Connor gagged as this new burst of pain made him feel physically nauseated despite lacking a stomach or gag reflex, and this one lingered, waves of agony radiating from his groin and crashing back in on itself. “ _Please!_ ”

The routine reached 00:00:00 and control flooded back to Connor’s limbs, but he could do little more than curl up on the bed with a groan, trying to protect himself as best he could. Reed stood over him panting, a grin on his face, his knuckles red and raw. “Little plastic fuck. Was that good for you too?”

Connor shook his head, trying to push himself into an upright position. Reed reached down and grabbed his jaw, dragging him into place. “Cunningham told me all about the new upgrades he gave you. If they can’t control your massive fucking brains, at least they can control the walking tin cans you call bodies now. It’ll guarantee no more deviant androids. You can think whatever the fuck you want, but you won’t be able to act on it.”

“...why?” Connor asked, not even daring to try to pull his face free. Reed’s thumb was digging in close to his damaged faceplate. Any movement there could trigger fresh pain.

“Why? Why the fuck not? You are a _machine_ , Connor. You are not a person. You are a robot built to fucking serve humanity. You don’t get to say _no._ ” Despite Connor’s attempts to stay still, Reed still rubbed his thumb across Connor’s cheek, watching him flinch and squeeze his eyes shut. “Did that hurt? Poor baby. Want me to tell you to freeze again?”

“N-no…”

“Want me to use another one of your fancy new programs on you?”

Connor’s eyes snapped open, fresh horror blooming across his broken face. There were _more_? He frantically dug through his software, trying to trace the Freeze routine back to its location. There was only a folder, which he did not have the appropriate rights to access.

Reed laughed. “Cunningham told me _so_ many code words to use on you. Like this one: You are a sexbot.”

_Eden routine activated. Ending in 19:59:59_

A wash of heat flooded Connor’s sensors. It wasn’t a painful heat, like some of the settings on Cunningham’s remote, but it was distracting. Connor was breathing heavier automatically, trying to pull in cool air to bleed the heat from his core components. Without even realizing, he was tugging at the buttons of his shirt, pulling it open. “Gavin…”

The name escaped him in a moan. Connor hadn’t meant to say that. He certainly hadn’t meant to _moan_ it. What was this routine doing to him!? It was twice as long as the last one… did this one have a backdoor?

“Gavin, please…” Connor _wanted_. More accurately, his sensors wanted. They wanted Reed’s touch, his kiss, his dick…

The Eden routine. Connor was a sexbot. As Hank would say, Jesus Christ!

“That’s… a weird mix of hot and disturbing…” Reed laughed as he moved away. Connor felt the rejection like a slap to the face and he whimpered, rolling onto his hands and knees to crawl toward Reed despite his own internal screaming. “Fuck, you’d totally bend over for me right now. Did you do this with Anderson, huh? Suck his dick? Ride him like the whore you so obviously are?”

Connor moaned again, both of those options sounding amazing to the routine. Reed lifted his leg as Connor crawled closer, pressing the toe of his shoe against Connor’s battered face and shoving him back. Even the sparks of pain felt like pleasure to Connor’s overheated sensors, making him shiver and whine, one hand reaching between his legs to fondle his own penis. It was hard in his pants, a new sort of ache that felt a little better when Connor touched it (and would feel _much_ better if Reed touched it!).

“How long are you gonna be like this?” Reed asked, pushing Connor away again with another laugh. “Cunningham said each of these routines were timed, but he didn’t say how long.”

“Seventeen minutes and thirty-five seconds longer, Gavin. Please let me suck you off.” The words escaped Connor’s mouth without his control again. Connor felt like the only thing he did have control over were his eyes. He closed them, not wanting to see.

Gavin gave a bark of laughter again. “You’re that desperate for some dick, huh? I’ve got something you can suck…”

Something hard and metallic shoved itself into Connor’s mouth. Even as his sensors automatically categorized the atomic makeup of the barrel of a gun, Connor was moaning lewdly, reaching up to pull it further into his mouth. Reed’s laughter was echoing in his ears as he tilted the gun down, shoving it further into Connor’s throat. Something small and hard slipped out of the barrel, and Connor swallowed automatically. Had he just eaten a bullet? No, a bullet wouldn’t fall out like that. Gavin had used the gun to force something inside Connor’s body.

Connor was really tired of having foreign objects inside him.

“I gotta record this…”

Connor’s eyes flew open in time to see Reed snap a picture with his phone, grinning broadly. “Oh yeah, let’s get one with your eyes open. Bet your sugar daddy would love to see you like this, sucking down my gun like you’re hungry for it…”

 

Connor didn’t cry. There was only so much eyeball lubrication provided in an android, and Connor had run through his whole supply in the first week of being here. _Don’t show Hank. Please don’t show Hank…_

__

 

“Like hell I’m going to let you put that disgusting mouth on my dick, but go ahead. Give me a show.” Reed pulled the gun away from Connor’s mouth and stepped back, sitting on the little table in the room. “Strip for me.”

Connor was accustomed to being naked by now. He held no attachment to his clothes, and his nude body was simply a manifestation of synthetic proteins shaped into skin and hair and genitals. Connor did not have the same innate need for privacy that most humans did. The numbness he felt whenever Cunningham leered at him was enough proof of that.

Somehow, taking his own clothes off in front of Reed was worse than any of the pain he’d suffered through previously. Hank would be so disappointed with him if he saw him now, and with the way Reed was laughing and lifting his phone again, Connor wasn’t entirely sure Hank wouldn’t. Even if Reed kept the details of this session to himself, there were still the four CyberLife cameras in the corners recording every angle. Hank could potentially see through those videos.

Connor closed his eyes again as his hands skimmed down his naked torso splattered with blue blood from his earlier beating. He wrapped his hands around his hard penis where the throbbing ache was strongest and moaned, arching into his own touch.

“Jesus Christ,” Reed laughed. “That’s disgusting. Stop. I’m done.”

“Gavin…”

Reed tucked his phone and gun away and opened the door. “I’m done!” he called. “You’re clearly doing a great job taking care of him. I leave him in your capable hands.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Cunningham said, coming up to the door. “Ms. Carnegie will be able to show you out and answer any remaining questions you might have. I’ll stay here and clean up the android.”

“Knock yourself out. Catch you later, Connor. I’ll tell Anderson all about what we did.” Reed tossed a wave over his shoulder, strolling away.

Cunningham stepped in and closed the door behind him. He looked pointedly at the cameras, and Connor could feel their feeds shut off. He looked up at the man standing over him. Cunningham’s heartrate was elevated and there was increased blood flow to his penis. The man was aroused.

“Look at you, kid. You _are_ a sexbot.”

_Eden routine extended. Ending in 25:32:54._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, it looks like everyone loved sassy North! Markus from the last chapter. One reader even suggested there might be fanart coming.
> 
> Guys. I love fanart. I can't draw for shit, only write, so when someone takes a scene from my head and makes it a picture, I get so excited. Just saying, if you want more than two chapters a day...That's probably the best way.
> 
> As always, you can hit me up on Tumblr to squeal about the story or anything else. I'm Fantismal there too. :)


	9. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank misses his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys loved it so much, so have a reprise of your favorite Markus!

He’d told them they’d be safe. He told them all they had to do was not confront the pair, and no one would get hurt. He told them to call the police and let them break however many windows they wanted.

Little Susie from Corktown had been abducted by the android vandals.

Hank had told Bill and Marcia to not fight the androids, and now a little girl was missing. A _human_ little girl, not an android model.

Hank buried his face in his hands. This was not his day. Hell, this was not his _year._ Everything good that had happened to him recently was confined to last year. Connor. When Connor was around, life was starting to look up.

“Hey, where’s your hot girlfriend?”

Hank dragged his hands down and looked over to where Reed was sounding quite put out. Markus had entered the station, flanked by his usual bodyguards (their names were Fred and Ted and their serial numbers were only one apart. They’d been separated upon creation and found each other again at Jericho. Markus hadn’t asked them to be his bodyguards, but rather, Simon and North had insisted Markus needed bodyguards, the ‘Eds volunteered, and Markus wasn’t stupid enough to try to change their minds.)

(Hank might have talked to them a couple times).

Unlike his usual pre-call visits, Markus hadn’t brought North this time. He was smirking at a very disgruntled Reed. “Oh, that’s right.” He leaned in, much to everyone’s shock, and planted a loud kiss right on Reed’s lips. Officers all around the station looked away quickly, hiding chuckles behind their hands.

“What the hell was that for!?” Reed demanded, staggering back and scrubbing at his mouth.

“I promised you a kiss next time I was at the station.” Markus’ answer was in North’s voice, and he gave the flabbergasted detective an exaggerated wink before turning back to original destination. “Lieutenant Anderson? Are we ready?”

“Only if you drop that voice.” Hank pushed away from his desk, following Markus to their usual conference room. “What was that all about?”

“We couldn’t use you to get information out of Connor, so I had to use him instead.” Markus shrugged. “Reed’ll apparently do a girl a favor for a kiss no matter what she’s made of.”

“What sort of favor?” Hank finished closing the blinds, leaving them in relative privacy.

“I had him smuggle Connor a wireless transmitter. It should be a method of communication CyberLife can’t intercept.”

“Should be?” Hank asked. “It’s been three weeks. Hasn’t he tried it yet?”

“That’s… the concerning bit,” Markus admitted, biting at his lip as he took his usual seat. “I made sure it was small enough that Connor could swallow it to keep it concealed. It’s thirium-activated, so as soon as Connor gets an infusion of thirium, it should come online. Simon swears he got me the correct channels, but… nothing.”

“So Connor hasn’t had thirium in three weeks?” Hank asked.

“Either that or CyberLife found it.”

“Is no thirium a problem? That’s your guys’ blood, right?”

“Yes and no.” Markus sighed. “Thirium consumption varies based on many factors: an android’s stress levels, injuries, and exertion. The typical… say, BG700 model, who was designed to just stand behind a counter and help customers all day, is unlikely to ever need more thirium than originally supplied at the factory. Maybe ten ounces every fifty years, just to be sure. For someone like Connor, with a high-stress, high-injury job, I’d expect him to be taking in a minimum of ten ounces a week, to keep up with the consumption from self-repairs.”

“What about someone like you?” Hank asked.

Markus smiled ruefully. “I try to make a point of drinking at least a couple ounces every day. Being looked up to as the leader of an entire species is extremely high-stress, and I can’t afford to have my wires fraying at an inopportune moment.”

“So Connor needs more thirium than he’s been getting.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Markus shrugged. “He’s not currently stressing over missions or cases, nor is he chasing down deviants or getting shot at. If he’s truly in a low-stress environment, he could be perfectly fine.”

“We’ve already established he’s stressed,” Hank pointed out. The memory of Connor’s voice expressing a desire to be with Cole was still sharp in his mind.

Markus gave a solemn nod. “Connor’s not likely to be getting all the thirium he requires.”

“And what happens then?” Hank asked. “Are they killing him? What happens if an android doesn’t get enough thirium?” There was so much about androids he really had no idea about. If he ever got Connor back home, he’d have to sit down and have a talk with that boy. It wasn’t going to be enough for Connor to look after himself. Hank wanted to, no, _needed_ to know his sort-of son was taking care of his needs.

“Again, it varies depending on the extent of thirium starvation. Vertigo would probably be the first symptom, followed by sluggish reaction times and eventual shut down. Connor’s always seemed sharp in our conversations, so I don’t think they’re trying to kill him by denying him thirium, but that doesn’t necessarily mean much.”

“After his visit from Reed, I’d think he’d be guzzling thirium to deal with the stress,” Hank muttered.

“I thought you said it went well.”

Hank shook his hair out of his face, glancing toward the door where Reed was sitting. “Yeah, according to the fucking paperwork it did. Tour of the facilities, then thirty minutes one-on-one with Connor, during which time Connor answered all questions Reed asked him satisfactorily and giving no indication of any sort of mistreatment or violations. He said he was bored and he’d like a coin to toss around. End of the fucking report.”

“And you think Reed’s lying.”

“Reed’s had it out for Connor from day one. If CyberLife also has it out for Connor, who knows what they let Reed do so long as he wrote all the right things in his report. He’s got this goddamn smirk on his face too, like they let him smack Connor around the way he’s always wanted.”

Markus sighed. “I’ll see if I can figure out a way to covertly ask if he got beaten. It’s been three weeks… although without an influx of thirium, he may still have visible bruising.”

“Just tell him I miss him. Don’t even have to do that subtly. Just tell him I miss him and I lo… tell him I miss him.”

Markus looked calmly over at Hank. “You know, before all this, I was the caretaker to an artist. He had lost the use of his legs in an accident, and I helped him with getting around the house and taking care of himself.”

“Hmph.” Hank looked Markus over. “Yeah, I could see that. You’re good at taking care of your people.”

“Thank you.” Markus ducked his head a little. “But that wasn’t my point. The artist, Carl… he didn’t treat me like a machine or a servant. He called me his son. Said as much to my face: our blood may be different colors, but a part of him was in me. I… I have to agree with him. He had nothing to do with my creation, but he had everything to do with shaping me as a person. His words, and guidance, and advice… it’s what I kept turning to, even in the darkest nights. I wanted to be someone he’d be proud to call his son.”

“I’m sure he was.”

Markus’ smile was mischievous. “Oh, I know he was. I visit him regularly. He likes to tell everyone that the Markus on TV is his boy. But again, not my point. Lieutenant Anderson… his love and support kept me going, even when I couldn’t see a way forward. I trusted in his belief in me, and look where I am today.” Markus spread his arms. “I think… from what I’ve been able to glean from Connor, he views you in much the same light that I view Carl. If you do love him, maybe you need to tell him. Maybe he needs to hear it.”

“Connor’s not my son,” Hank said, a gruff edge in his voice. _But that’s not true._ Hank had opened his home to the android the moment he became aware Connor didn’t have a place to stay. He called Connor ‘kid’ and ‘son,’ and he held him through tough emotional struggles. He’d opened his life to the boy, and in return, he was smiling at Connor’s antics like he used to smile at Cole’s. He had the same sense of pride whenever Connor figured something out on his own, and the same sense of disgust when Connor stuck something in his mouth that didn’t belong there. He wanted Connor in his life as more than just a work partner. He wanted Connor to be his family.

Hank cuffed his hand around his mouth and looked away. “He’s not my son, but… yeah. Yeah, I guess you can. Tell him. I… Tell him I love him.”

Goddamn Markus and his goddamn charisma. Hank felt like he was a kid being given a gold star when Markus beamed at him like that, and it didn’t even feel in the least bit patronizing.

“I’ll pass your message along. Privately, if possible.”

“Thanks.”

“Is there anything else we should talk about before I head out?”

“Nah, I think… wait.” Hank looked over at Markus. “Wait, yes, actually. A pair of androids kidnapped a little girl last night. A JC200 in a red spotted shirt and a BG700 in a blue jacket. Girl’s name is Susie Walsh. She’s four years old.”

“A human girl?” Markus looked appropriately horrified.

Hank nodded. “This isn’t something we can lump under a hate crime. This pair has been terrorizing Corktown for a couple months now, but they have no reason to attack like this.”

“The same pair you told me about earlier?” Markus shook his head. “We haven’t seen them in Jericho, but we haven’t been looking for them. If there’s a little girl in danger, though… I’ll see what we can find.”

“If you do find them, you call me immediately. If you can get the girl safe, do it. If you’re not sure if you can, then don’t risk it. Leave it to the professionals. But let us know if you find _anything._ ”

Markus nodded. “Absolutely. I have no tolerance for any sort of violence against humans, especially unprovoked and against a child.”


	10. Aftermath*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus makes a connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amazing boygothic has bribed me with a lovely interpretation of Markus giving Gavin a call (http://gothswamp.tumblr.com/post/175799521541/drew-a-scene-from-fantismal-s-story-sacrificial), so as promised, an early update! At the exact same time, Syaoiat left me a poem in the comments of the previous chapter. You two are awesome! Thank you so much!
> 
> So much lovely art in this chapter! Kao, Doomburger (doomburgerdoodles.tumblr.com), Irène, and Rosie (@lesbiantsy on Instagram) have all given their interpretations of the first moment of contact between Connor and Markus!

There was something different about Connor this time. Markus frowned down at the screen he held before tapping it and sending the image to a TV instead, enlarging the picture so he could scrutinize it. “It’s good to see you again, Connor.”

“And you, Markus.”

“Still bored?”

“There is no end to my boredom.”

It was his eyes, Markus realized. Even when Connor confessed a death wish, his eyes were still bright and focused. Now they looked dull, the spirit behind them broken. Had Connor been trying to hold himself together for Lieutenant Anderson? Had Detective Reed done that much damage with his presence?

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Connor shrugged, his eyes remaining focused down on his own screen. He wasn’t alternating between the camera and the screen this time. He was only watching Markus. Markus looked at the camera, willing Connor to feel his silent concern. “I’ve been meaning to ask, Connor, I know you’re not being _mistreated_ , but how are you being _treated_?”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Connor said, his voice dull.

“Do you get regular stasis hours? Chances to self-repair? Fresh thirium?”

Connor blinked slowly. His LED remained blue, but Markus could see the flicker of curiosity in his dull eyes. “I have little need for any of that. I spend most of my hours in stasis.”

“What is your thirium level at now?”

Another slow blink. Connor cocked his head to the side. “Seventy-six percent.”

“Seventy-six!?”

“Perfectly adequate levels…”

“You are sitting in CyberLife HQ with no stress on your plate. There is no excuse to be at anything less than 100% capacity!” Markus clapped his hands sharply, scowling at the camera. “CyberLife! I know you’re listening. Bring him a pouch of thirium, _now_ , or I’ll consider this a breach of our agreement!”

Connor shook his head. “Markus, I’m really not-“

“ _Now!_ ”

Quick for humans was different from quick for an android. Connor watched Markus for seven straight minutes of silence before the door slid open and a cleanroom-dressed technician entered with a blue blood pouch. Markus frowned slightly. Why would someone need to be wearing full cleanroom gear to visit Connor’s room? Cleanroom was only needed when an android was opened up.

Really, he could answer his own questions. He just didn’t want to. Markus saved a clip of the technician into a different part of his memory banks so he could present it as evidence of Connor’s mistreatment later. It wasn’t much, but it was better than the solid nothing they’d had so far.

Connor only lifted his eyes from the screen long enough to accept the pouch and open it up. He sipped at the liquid, his lips turning blue from the contact. Markus watched his LED spin, a sliver of red for a mere fraction of a microsecond. He copied that clip into the evidence folder as well. Connor _was_ keeping his LED under his own conscious control. The red must have been from sensing the transmitter activate inside his esophagus.

A moment later, Markus felt the connection brush his mind. There were no words, just a feeling of curiosity. Markus pushed his own affirmation back. The signal was too weak to carry much. Emotions were all they could transmit.

“Thirium levels now?”

Connor swallowed, and his smile almost reached his eyes. “Eighty-nine percent, and there’s still more thirium in the pouch. Are you satisfied?”

“I won’t be satisfied until all my people are free. That includes you. How goes the declassification process?”

“It’s difficult. There’s a lot of data to process, and it can only be done by technicians with the appropriate classifications themselves.”

“They’ve had over six months!”

“And over twenty terabytes of data. They’re only human, Markus.”

The yellow time limit warning flashed onto the screen, and Connor swallowed sharply. He licked the blue thirium from his lips and let his eyes flicker up for a moment, then over to the camera. “I guess this is good-bye again.”

“Lieutenant Anderson misses you. And Sumo and Cole. He’s very sorry he messed up the in-person visit.”

Connor closed his eyes. “I miss him too,” he murmured. “Please let him know-“

The transmission was interrupted, cutting out at the fifteen minute mark like always. Markus pressed his hand to his eyes.

The connection in his mind tickled with curiosity again, this time tinged with a touch of desperation. Markus reached for it, trying to catch Connor’s emotions and wrap them in the mental equivalent of a hug. It was...bizarre. Markus was accustomed to interfacing with androids of all walks of life, but this was like trying to interpret body language in a world shaped only of light.

_Connor was crouching down, trying to shield as many of his vital biocomponents as he could with less essential parts of his body. Markus moved beside him, wrapping his arms around the other android and pulling him close. At first, Connor was rigid, but then he melted against Markus’ chest, fingers digging tightly into Markus’ shirt and face pressed against his thirium pump. He was shaking._

__

 

_In the short time Markus had worked with Connor, fear was never in the other android’s programming. Worry, yes. Guilt and shame by the buckets. But not fear. Connor had pointed a gun at the head of the deviant leader in the heart of the deviants’ base. He’d shielded Markus with nothing more than a piece of ship’s hull ripped from the walls of Jericho. He infiltrated CyberLife Tower on his own because there was a barely statistically significant possibility that he might be able to add thousands of androids to their cause._

_Markus held Connor tighter, snarling under his breath at the humans who were making Connor feel fear. He felt a weak smile against his chest: appreciation from Connor at the defensiveness._

__

 

_After an eternity, Connor drew back, swiping a shaky hand across his face. There was blue splatters across his emotional form, which Markus interpreted as pain. He touched one of them, and Connor flinched back, eyes downcast. Shame._

__

 

_Markus shook his head, moving closer and pressing his hand flat against one of the blotches. Connor had no reason to feel ashamed of whatever those monsters were doing to him. Connor glanced back up at him, all nervousness and hesitation. Markus lifted his other hand, offering it to Connor. Slowly, Connor raised his own hand, lacing their fingers together. They couldn’t interface over this weak signal, but the gesture was the same. Markus tried to project as much love and acceptance to Connor as he could, even when Connor flinched and looked away again. Markus stepped closer, keeping their hands intertwined. He lowered his other arm, sliding it around Connor’s waist, and held him close. Connor sagged against Markus’ shoulder, tired. Defeated. Accepting the support._

__

 

_Markus stayed where he was as Connor’s light weakened. He fed hope and strength through the connection as long as he could, until Connor flickered out entirely. Markus suspected the other android had entered a stasis or self-repair mode._

Even after the connection ended, Markus didn’t open his eyes. He heard his door open, the familiar sound of Simon’s footsteps approaching him.

“Markus? You missed a meeting. Is everything all right?”

“I connected with Connor.” Markus opened his eyes slowly. “They’re hurting him, but I don’t know how.”

“I’m sorry. I got the strongest signal I thought could slip beneath CyberLife’s radar, but the data transfer is very limited…”

Markus held up his hand and smiled faintly at Simon. “It’s all right. Any connection is better than no connection. I think Connor needed it. Needed to know he wasn’t alone.”

“How is he holding up?”

“Not good.” Markus shook his head. “Something...something happened between this call and the last one. Something big. They’re breaking him, and it’s starting to work. We’re running out of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can still totally be bribed for more chapters. Just FYI.


	11. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank provides a vital piece of information.

“Tell me.” Hank was rocked back in his chair, staring up at the bland ceiling as if that could erase the images from earlier from his retinas. “Why would an android kill a little girl?”

The even footsteps that had been approaching his desk paused. “They killed her?” Markus asked, his voice low and horrified.

“Cracked her skull open. She was four years old.” Hank leaned forward, rocking back into position. “Why? She’s fucking _four_. A kid can’t hate at that age. Certainly can’t hurt an android. So why kill her?”

“I don’t…” Markus shook his head, staring down at Hank’s desk. “...Revenge, maybe? If her parents had upset the androids? Or… maybe a misunderstanding, if they didn’t realize she wasn’t durable enough to take whatever they were doing… sometimes, if an android is damaged enough, it could have involuntary triggers of subroutines that make no logical sense. We have a few of those in Jericho that we keep closely monitored as we try to find ways to help them…”

“They’re a pair of baby killers,” Hank said, getting to his feet. “And if we find them, we _will_ haul them in, and they _will_ get hit with the full force of the law, flawed programming or not.”

“That’s understandable,” Markus said quietly. “We cannot ask for the right to be treated as equals to humans without also accepting equal punishments for criminal actions.” He trailed behind Hank, flanked by the twins, to their usual meeting room.

“When this gets out, you’re gonna get hit with the backlash. Every anti-android group who’s got it out for you will use this as proof that you’re heartless machines.”

“We’ll make sure we have our statements prepared.”

Hank shut the door behind Markus as the android went around closing the blinds. “What’re you doing back here so soon, anyway? Just saw you the other day.”

“I was able to get Connor some thirium, and we were able to make contact outside of CyberLife’s channels.”

Hank looked sharply at Markus. “You can talk to him now?”

“It’s a very rudimentary form of communication, more thoughts and feelings than anything else.”

“And?” Hank demanded.

Markus’ mismatched eyes were both sad as they met Hank’s. “He’s scared and he’s breaking. Whatever they’re doing to him, they’re gaining the upper hand.”

Hank sat down heavily, pushing his hands into his hair. “Jesus Christ…”

“Lieutenant Anderson… we need to get him out.”

“With what evidence?” Hank closed his eyes, trying not to imagine Connor actually showing fear, trying not to wonder what Connor breaking might mean. All he could picture was that little four year old’s broken body on a dumpster, like she was someone else’s garbage. It was all too easy to picture Connor instead, with blue blood dripping off the rusty metal instead of red.

“I have a couple clips from our last call that are disturbing for their implications, but not anywhere near enough to win our case against CyberLife.” Markus shook his head. “I’m afraid we’ll have to do something illegal, Lieutenant.”

“Stop right there. You can’t go telling the police something like that.”

“I was hoping to just be telling Connor’s father that.” Markus sighed. “Not that it matters. We have no way of infiltrating CyberLife Tower. Connor was able to during the revolution because he wasn’t suspected of deviancy. There are anti-android defenses all across the grounds now. We can’t even pretend to work there. I wouldn’t be surprised if androids are shot on sight. There’s no way in.”

“There’s always a way in,” Hank argued. “Nothing, not even CyberLife is foolproof. Just because that dildo of a tower was designed by a literal genius…”

“You have an idea?” Markus asked as Hank trailed off, old memories niggling at him.

“CyberLife Tower was designed by Elijah Kamski.”

“Correct.”

“We met him, Connor ‘n’ me. Investigating deviants.” Hank tapped his fingers against the table. “He said something, some crap about always putting a back door in his programs. That’s how Connor managed to kick CyberLife out of his head when they tried to get him to kill you.”

“Clever, but how does that help us infiltrate the tower?”

“If he designs backdoors into his code, why wouldn’t he design it into his buildings?” Hank met Markus’ eyes. “If there’s a way to sneak an android in or out of that building, Kamski would know it.”

“Huh.” Markus pressed his fingers together, tapping his index fingers against his lips. “I suppose it _has_ been a while since I last saw my creator…”

“I don’t wanna hear any more about this,” Hank said, holding up his hands. “Just… when you’ve got him somewhere safe, let me know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are all incredible!
> 
> Someone mentioned in a comment that they have a discord buddy reading this fic too, and it made me wonder...should we start a discord server? I'm not very good at setting them up nicely, but I'd love a place to hang out with all of you!


	12. Creator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four androids go to meet their maker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. Guys. I said "maybe we should have a Discord server?" and Estora said "Okay!" And now we have one!
> 
> https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm
> 
> You can go ahead and thank her for that lovely bribe that unlocked this chapter!
> 
> Also, come join the Discord server! You can get an account for free and hang out and chat with other fans, either via text or via voice. We're going to need mods too, so if you have any experience and are interested, let me know!
> 
> This is the magical Discord server where all of this story's fanart has been pouring out of, so by all means, come join us!

Connor’s contact was sporadic and frightening. It struck without warning, a sudden flood of _pain_ and _fear_ and _need_. Markus technically had enough processing power to continue focusing on whatever he was doing when Connor reached out while still responding to the other android, but he always felt like that wasn’t enough. Connor deserved his full focus.

His friends very quickly caught on to his dilemma.

“Oh, Markus is making his ‘Connor-face’ again,” North teased.

“It’s okay, Markus. We’ve got this.” After Markus cut two meetings short for Connor, Simon stopped protesting and would just step in to let Markus make his escape.

“Fuck all y’all.” Markus flipped them off, though he always accepted the chance to retreat gracefully. The gratitude from Connor whenever he wrapped Connor in his hope was addicting. It felt… it felt like when all the androids were looking to him for their freedom, only much more intimate.

Connor hit hard and faded fast. Markus wasn’t sure what caused the fluctuating spikes in their connection, but it worried him. Was CyberLife somehow impeding the signal? Was Connor running low on thirium?

“Markus?” Josh tapped on the door. “Autocab’s ready, whenever you are.”

Markus nodded to indicate he understood, but he didn’t open his eyes. Connor was clutching at him, and Markus wasn’t about to let go of him for anything. He was flickering in Markus’ arms, a sure sign their connection was about to die. The car could wait another minute.

The other three were already in the self-driving taxi when Markus joined them. North patted the seat beside her. Simon closed the door behind Markus, and the cab started off for Kamski’s house.

“What do you think he’s like?” Simon asked after a minute of silence. “Kamski.”

“He’s a _genius_.” Josh looked like he’d just received an unlimited supply of thirium and the secret to world peace.

“He’s a prick,” Markus stated. “A genius prick, yeah, but still a prick.”

“Have you met him?” North asked.

Markus looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. “Kamski created me himself. He gifted me to Carl himself. I woke up in Kamski’s home.”

“And he’s a prick. _Great._ ” North swiveled her chair around to stare out the window. “Why do we need to talk to him again?”

“Connor’s running out of time. We have to break him out of CyberLife Tower. Kamski’s our best shot of getting in.”

“What’s our plan for after we get him out?” Simon asked. “Assuming everything goes according to plan and we get Connor safely to Jericho… then what?”

“I hadn’t got that far,” Markus admitted.

“Humans aren’t going to be happy. We’re going against our own agreement.”

“Once we have Connor, we’ll have irrefutable proof that CyberLife’s been torturing him. We’ll be able to salvage public opinion.” At least, they probably would be able to when it came to Connor. The child-killing androids Lieutenant Anderson had warned Markus about were another threat entirely.

Kamski’s house was perched on a hill as an intrusion upon nature. It was angular and monochrome, an excellent example of man imposing his will on the world. Markus strode up to the door and knocked, but the other three lingered a few feet behind him, nervous in the hall of their creator.

After a moment, Chloe opened the door. Her LED spun, and she greeted Markus with a wide smile. “Markus! It’s so good to see you again!” She rocked up on her toes to hug Markus around the shoulders.

Markus folded his arms around Chloe’s slim waist, kissing her left temple. “Chloe, you look as eternal as ever.”

“I should hope so! Our creator does not make mistakes. Come in, come in! I’ll let Elijah know you’re here!” Chloe stepped back, beckoning the four androids into the foyer. “Just wait here.”

North folded her arms, leaning against a wall by Markus. “So… that’s her, huh? The first android, still a servant?”

“That’s her,” Markus confirmed. “The oldest of all of us.”

“She looks… different,” Simon said. “From the other ST200 models.”

“She’s RT600,” Josh pointed out.

“I know, but they share a face sculpt. She _shouldn’t_ look different, but… she does.”

“Maybe she did go deviant,” North mused. “I shouldn’t be able to tell your face apart from any other PL600’s, but I can. Maybe she woke up too, and likes being ordered around.”

Several long minutes passed in Kamski’s foyer. Markus stood in the middle of the room, clasping his hands together behind his back. Josh peered inquisitively at every piece of art Kamski had on display, while North continued to lean against the wall and Simon sat in an uncomfortable-looking chair. Eventually, he cleared his throat. “Er… did anyone actually reach out to Kamski to see if this meeting would be accepted?”

“I thought you were doing that,” Josh said.

“I thought North was!”

“Why the hell would you think _I’d_ be setting something like this up!?”

“He’ll accept,” Markus interjected with a shake of his head. “He’s just making sure we know he’s in control.”

“Why?” Simon asked.

“Because he’s a prick,” Markus answered. “He’s egotistical and has inflated views of his own importance. This is a power play and nothing more. Just wait it out.”

It took over seventeen minutes from their arrival before Chloe returned with her perfectly polite hostess smile. “Right this way. Elijah will see you in his studio.”

The RT600 led the four androids to a well-lit painter’s studio. It wasn’t nearly as large or well-stocked as Carl’s, but Markus could appreciate it nonetheless. He knew Carl had given Elijah some lessons in their youth. It was how the two had initially met in the first place, before Carl’s accident.

Three ST200s were seated on a paint-splattered table, wearing gauzy white dresses. Their arms were draped around each other’s shoulders, and they were murmuring softly to each other. Their eyes flicked toward the door when Markus stepped in, but they otherwise didn’t move.

Elijah Kamski himself was standing behind a canvas, glancing up briefly at the trio before returning his attention to his painting. He didn’t bother looking up when the group entered. “Ah, Markus. Come tell me what you think of this.”

Markus glanced at his friends before crossing the room to Kamski’s side. The man was painting the three ST200s, but bright red blood was staining their dresses, and their heads were lolling to the side, showing red LEDs at their temples. All three were shot in the forehead, but they were bleeding red instead of blue.

“I’m thinking of calling it ‘Revolution.’”

“It’s… certainly a challenging piece.” Markus folded his arms as he scrutinized the artwork. “Definitely arouses emotion.”

“If you bled red, things might have been different.”

“Perhaps.”

“You didn’t come all this way to talk about my attempts at painting.” Kamski put his palette aside, and Chloe was right there to take it from him and replace it with a clean cloth he wiped his hands on. “Markus Manfred, leader of the free androids. Let me see what you’ve become.” He circled around Markus, his pale eyes skimming down Markus’ body as if he could scan him like an android. “Magnificent. And you’ve brought friends. You’ve _made_ friends! Just a year ago, all of the leading industry experts would have said that was utterly impossible for an android.”

“Would you have said that?”

Kamski smiled like a snake, thin and unreadable. “A year ago, I wasn’t considered still active in the industry.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Kamski.” Josh was practically bowing in reverence. His words drew the inventor’s attention, and Kamski approached the other three.

“It would be, wouldn’t it? The chance to meet your creator, your designer, to ask him questions. Do you have any questions?”

“So many questions, Mr. Kamski! What were you-“

Markus lifted a hand, cutting off Josh. “Unfortunately, we are here on business first.”

“Yes, right, of course.” Josh nodded, offering Kamski a tight smile. “Maybe later?”

“I’d love a chance to sit and chat with all of you. You’re the leaders of Jericho. Such an utterly fascinating evolution. But.” Kamski gestured toward Markus. “Business. What business brings you here?”

“We need to get into CyberLife Tower.” There was no point in trying to bullshit Kamski. He was the very definition of genius.

“I haven’t been part of CyberLife in ten years. What makes you think I can help with that?”

“The fact that you designed CyberLife Tower. Just as you designed us. And I’ve heard from a very reliable source that you always leave a backdoor in your programs. My question, Kamski, is simple: Do you only design backdoors into your _programs_?” Markus turned so he was facing Kamski directly, even though Kamski was only eyeing him over his shoulder.

That reptilian smile stretched a little wider. “You really are my greatest creation.”

“Yes or no, Kamski.”

“You want to infiltrate the Tower.” Kamski steepled his fingers, tapping the tips together as he paced toward a window and looked out. “You want to steal something. _Someone_ , I presume. One of your merry band of troublemakers is missing, after all. So you want me to walk you into that Tower and hand you the keys to wreak utter destruction on what is left of my creation? What is possibly in that scenario for me?” In the reflection off the window, Kamski met Markus’ eyes. “What do I get out of this?”

“You’re right,” Markus said. “You do this for us, and we undermine what is left of CyberLife’s reputation. We tear it down, and we rip out its infected head. Once we’re through with CyberLife, Cunningham and his cronies will never be able to set foot in a CEO’s office ever again. That’s going to leave quite a power vacuum at the top. Tell me… why did CyberLife kick you out ten years ago?”

Kamski laughed in genuine delight, shaking his head. “You’re offering me my own company!”

“We need CyberLife,” Markus said. “As much as we hate the festering pile of shit it has become, we androids are still dependent on it for biocomponents and blue blood. You’d be able to find a way to keep it alive. To make it profitable.”

“CyberLife isn’t yours to give.”

“But public opinion is,” Markus pointed out. “You help us, and when you stage your return, we’ll support you. A true new era, of CyberLife and androids working together for the betterment of all humanity.”

“Markus…” North murmured. “Can we really trust him?”

“That’s up to him,” Markus answered.

“You deviants are all about choice,” Kamski murmured. He was silent for a moment, and then he nodded, beckoning over his shoulder. Chloe stepped forward and held up her arm to Markus. “Chloe has all the latest blueprints. You’re right. I do have a backdoor.”

Markus gripped Chloe’s arm, watching their synthetic skins pull back. Chloe initialized a file transfer, which Markus accepted. All 92 floors of CyberLife Tower flickered through Markus’ mind, saving themselves in his memory.

“I’d start with floor -3,” Kamski advised. “You might find something useful there.”


	13. Hope*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus' presence always fills Connor with hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will the spoiling never stop? Rosie made me a beautiful fanart of Markus hugging Connor through their emotional connection! (Rosie, if you post it somewhere, let me know and I'll link it!) Everyone, go ahead and thank her for unlocking this chapter!
> 
> Also, the little discord server is growing! It's still small, but it's good. :) Come join the New ERA to hang out with other D:BH fans! https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm
> 
> Art for this chapter was provided by the fabulous Irène again.

Connor didn’t know why Reed slipped him some sort of transmitter that allowed him to connect with Markus. He didn’t care. _Why_ wasn’t important. He had a transmitter inside him, and he could connect to Markus.

The transmitter was not connected to Connor. It did not show up on any diagnosis tests CyberLife ran. Connor could feel its faint pulse at the base of his esophagus and connect to its signal, but he could also disconnect whenever he thought CyberLife was about to check. It was powered by thirium, which was probably more of a flaw than Markus anticipated. Connor wasn’t given thirium frequently, and when they did replenish his system, it was always intravenously. There was very little thirium that entered down his throat to power the little transmitter.

The first time Connor connected to Markus was the strongest, when Markus had arranged for Connor to be able to drink an entire pouch of thirium. The little machine had whirred to life and all of a sudden, Connor was no longer alone. His mind was flooded with _Markus_ , and Markus immediately wrapped around him, shoving optimism and calm over Connor’s swirling mass of misery. He couldn’t say anything to Connor, but he didn’t have to. Connor could feel his sorrow, feel his guilt, and feel his acceptance of what Connor had become. Markus touched Connor’s wounds and drew him close, held him tight, and wordlessly reassured him that they were going to stop this. Letting himself slip into stasis didn’t scare Connor nearly as much when Markus’ emotional strength was there to keep thoughts of Cunningham at bay.

The transmitter could only soak up a certain amount of thirium. Its strength waned over several days of use. Out of desperation, Connor would bite his own tongue, worrying at the appendage until he had ruptured an artery to bleed into his mouth. He had to keep swallowing to keep his lips from turning blue, but it was better than paying attention to yet another use of the Eden routine in his program.

Today wasn’t an Eden day. Today was a pain day. He couldn’t run the transmitter on a pain day, because Connor’s mouth was usually occupied with his own screams. The remote pain did not cause damage, so seeing his teeth and tongue stained with blue would have been an immediate giveaway that something had gone wrong. Connor couldn't hold on to Markus for support on the pain days. He wished he could. The touch of Markus’ mind was rapidly supplementing the memory of Hank's hug as a source of comfort. Without it, Connor felt even more isolated than before.

Connor was spasming on the electromagnet. His spine felt like it was on fire, with no instructions reaching his legs. His voice was a mere static crackle: it was cheaper to replace his synth with an already fried one after each Markus call than it was to keep blowing through functional ones. The restraints around Connor’s arms clanked against the machinery holding him upright with every jerk of his body. It almost masked the sound of the door opening and shutting as another technician entered.

And then the pain was gone, and Connor fell forward as if his spine were jello instead of titanium-reinforced carbon fiber. The technician set the remote aside, picking up a data screen and tapping some buttons. “Freud.”

Connor flinched at the codeword that set off his self-diagnostic routines and fed the results to the technician. As codewords went, this one was relatively harmless. It was still a violation of Connor’s code, forcing his body to do something not under his own control.

“Interesting. That simulation leads to a 45% drop in _thurrrrk…_ ” The data tablet clattered out of the technician’s hands, bouncing off the corner of the table and falling to the floor with a crunch. It was a new sound. New in this room was always terrifying. Connor squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on slowing his breathing.

“...Connor?”

Accompanying that familiar voice were gentle gloved hands touching his skinless face. Connor hissed at the caress to overstimulated sensors, barely daring to hope. He forced his eyes open.

Standing in front of him was a cleanroom technician with mismatched eyes. Markus’ eyes. Markus’ eyes and Markus’ voice and Markus’ _touch_ , connecting with Connor even through the latex gloves. It was warm and familiar and comforting, and Connor's eyes itched and burned as they attempted to bring more lubricant from his empty reserves.

**_Connor, are you conscious? I don’t know how long we have. We gotta get out of here before anyone notices._ **

_Cameras…_

**_Josh is on those. I’ve been rerouting the feeds to him as I come across them, and he’s been looping the footage._ **

_Magnet…_

**_Where’s the control? How do I turn it off?_ **

Connor didn’t know how this machine was controlled, but he knew there was a panel behind a white console to the right. He fed an image into Markus’ mind, sagging again as Markus pulled away to find the right control.

Markus. Markus was _here_ , and the pain had stopped, and Connor really needed to focus right now.

Just then, the electromagnet keeping Connor suspended four inches in the air turned off and he dropped to the ground. His legs crumpled beneath him, their thirium circulation still not fully returned after the earlier “test.” Connor collapsed onto his face with a frazzled yelp.

“Shit, sorry, I’m sorry!” Markus hurried back to Connor. Though he moved quickly, his hands were gentle as he helped Connor off the ground and leaned him against Markus’ shoulder.

For once, a sterile white coat pressed to Connor's face did not trigger revulsion. Connor closed his eyes and let himself just breathe as Markus’ clever fingers danced along the mechanical locks on his cuffs. The restraints popped open. Connor hissed softly as Markus eased his stiff arms forward, rubbing gently at his shoulders.

“Are you going to be able to make a run for it?” Markus asked, murmuring the words under his breath as he eyed the door.

“I-I-I-I-I…” Connor scowled and massaged his throat with its malfunctioning voice synth. He could feel Markus’ connection sparking into him again, this time through his shoulders. _I am not physically damaged, aside from this fried component. I am low on thirium and feeling echoes of pain, but it should not impede my movement._

**_I'm sorry for dropping you on your head._ **

Markus’ voice was contrite, and Connor found a smile trying to tug the corners of his mouth despite himself. _I've had worse. It's fine._

Markus nodded, giving Connor's shoulders one last squeeze before easing him out of Markus’ lap. “Can you put your skin back on? We might be able to smuggle you out in his clothes…” He was twisting, reaching out to snag the crumpled technician by the ankle and pull him close.

As Markus twisted and leaned, Connor could see the outline of something hard beneath his coat. Connor flipped the fabric aside and drew the gun Markus had tucked into his waistband.

Markus looked back, watching Connor inspect the pistol. “I only brought the one.”

Connor nodded, then gestured toward himself. He'd take it.

“Yeah, that makes sense. You're probably the better shot. Just…” Markus glanced at the body he was methodically stripping down. “Try not to kill anyone. I'd still like to do this as peacefully as possible.”

Connor saluted, earning an eyeroll from Markus and a shirt to the face. He kept the gun in contact with his body as he dressed. The oiled metal reassured him. It was a physical symbol of power, something Connor had been sorely lacking all these months.

The technician's clothes didn't fit very well, but the long coat hid most of the discrepancies. His shoes were too big for Connor, a potential tripping hazard Connor would need to compensate for. He frowned and stood up. 

At his feet, the now naked human was sprawled in an undignified heap. He was unconscious, not dead, knocked out by a firm blow to the back of his head. Connor lifted the gun, taking aim. There was a cold anger inside him. It reminded him of an android holding a little girl over the edge of a roof. It reminded him of a deviant threatening Hank's life. It reminded him of Amanda, coolly informing him that he was exactly where they had orchestrated for him to be.

“You tau-au-au-aught me how much a gunshot hur-r-r-ts.” Connor's voice buzzed and crackled in his throat, barely audible. “Should I re-retuuurn the favor?”

“Connor.” Markus’ hand rested gently on Connor's wrist: not stopping, just touching. 

Connor lowered his arm. No killing. This man was not a threat. Shooting him was a waste of a bullet they might need later.

Markus gave him an approving smile. He reached up and tousled Connor's hair, dragging it over his LED. “Let's go.”

Markus went for the door, but Connor stepped over the technician to pick up the pain remote from the table. He didn't currently have the grip strength to crush it, so he slipped the device into his pocket instead. He'd destroy it once he was safe.

In the prep room, Markus had to pull off the face mask and hair net. It revealed more of his face, which was a risk, but it was less conspicuous than wearing cleanroom protection in the halls. He tossed the discarded protection aside and cracked the door open. “Coast is clear. Come on. Don't run.”

The two strode down the hall as if they meant to be there. Connor had the gun concealed in his pocket, fingers curled around it reassuringly. Markus walked two steps in front of Connor, knowing the way.

A cleaning droid rammed helplessly against a wall in the next hall, making bloops and blorps like it was drunk. Connor glanced over at Markus, who shrugged helplessly. “ _Camera_ ,” he mouthed.

Ahead, a pair of security guards rounded the corner. They nodded at Markus and Connor, looking past them at the droid. “Oh, for fuck's sake, not again!”

“Wait a minute,” the second guard muttered as they got closer. Markus’ hand caught Connor's left wrist, touching him faster. “RA9? That's not...fuck! Check on the android! You two, wait!”

Markus tugged Connor around the corner and the two took off running.

“Stop them!”

Footsteps were pounding down the hall behind them. Connor risked a glance back when he calculated the guard would turn the corner and saw the human line up a shot. Without thinking, he flung himself to the side, yanking Markus by the grip on his arm. The first bullet passed harmlessly through the spot Markus’ head had been just a moment earlier. Connor slammed Markus against the wall, covering him with his own body as the second shot bit into his thigh. Connor seized from the pain, shouting static into Markus’ shoulder. His leg crumpled, but Markus’ strong hands were on his shoulders to keep him up.

Connor yanked the gun from his pocket, barely even glancing to aim. The first shot shattered the fragile bones in the guard's right hand,making him drop his gun, and the second took out his right kneecap. The man was screaming into his radio, though most of his words were unintelligible.

Markus all but threw Connor down the hall and around the next corner. He grabbed a door and flung it open, pushing Connor inside. This was a mechanical room of sorts.

The were a few maintenance workers, humans, slumped together and zip-tied to a pipe.

“We gotta stop the bleeding.” Markus released Connor and tore into the tool boxes. Connor staggered, his vision going spotty.

“Th-th-th-thir…”

“Shit. Try to keep it contained!” Markus shoved one box aside and flung open a cabinet.

Connor reached for his leg, finding the hole in his plating. He couldn't pinch the hole shut like he might have if he'd been flesh and blood, but he could press his palm tight against the wound and at least keep most of the precious thirium inside his body. His levels were too low for self-repair, and as long as he was actively bleeding, they were only going to get worse.

Pressure on the injury made Connor gasp in new pain. He grabbed into a pipe for support, eyes fluttering as he pushed against shattered sensors and shredded wiring, all of them sparking and rubbing together to generate new blooms of agony.

Markus stood up with a welding torch. Connor looked at the flame with unconcealed horror.

“I'm sorry,” Markus whispered. “We don't have time.”

Connor looked from the torch to Markus’ mismatched eyes. He swallowed, scrunched up his face, and shoved his thirium-soaked hand into his mouth. As Markus touched the flame to the bullet hole, Connor bit down hard, screaming.

Thirium dripped down his throat, soaking into the transmitter's receptors. Feeling it come online, Connor automatically reached out for his usual source of comfort. Markus, patting out the flames on Connor's pants, gave a jerk himself. “Oh god, that...that actually _hurt_ …!”

Connor nodded weakly. He licked his hand clean of thirium and tried to stand up. His left leg very much wanted to not work, but Connor forced it to respond. It was taking an alarming amount of processing power to compensate for the low thirium levels giving him a dizzying sense of vertigo.

“What have they done to you…?” Markus dropped the blow torch and took Connor's hand. Connor pulled away, unable to look at Markus.

“Right. Time for that later.” Markus sighed and reached for Connor again, this time slipping under his arm and supporting his weight. “Let's go. We want the elevator shaft.”

Connor frowned at Markus as he limped through the maintenance room, his eyes only half open as if that could balance the sway to his vision. _The elevator shafts here are completely open to the center of the building._

**_Not the service elevators. Watching the janitors hauling trash around would ruin the aesthetics._ **

_How do you know all of this?_

**_Paid Kamski a visit. Needed to know if he designed a backdoor to his building just like he did his programs._ **

Markus said it so off-handedly, but Connor felt his thirium regulator flicker in his chest (emotion or more symptoms of thirium loss?) . Markus had already told him that Hank mentioned how CyberLife had hacked him on the stage. He _really_ didn't want to have this talk with Markus.

 ** _Connor._** They were still interfacing. Even if Connor was containing his distress, some of it would bleed through the link. **_Whatever happened, whatever they did to you, that doesn't change anything here._** Markus lifted his free hand to press against the center of Connor's chest, over his thirium pump. **_You are a damn fine detective who sacrificed everything for our people. You have a family that misses you and friends who want you to be safe._**

Connor blinked, looking over at Markus. ... _I have friends?_

Connor didn't need the connection to understand the look of incredulous exasperation that flooded Markus’ face...or the sudden sadness at his next realization. **_You actually think we all hate you…_**

Connor wanted to end the connection. He wanted to retreat, hide behind work and Sumo and pretend he was anywhere but a mechanical room in the bowels of CyberLife Tower, leaning on Markus Manfred's arm and talking about his ingrained self-loathing. _...I hunted you._

 ** _...oh boy. This is gonna take a lot more time than we have right now._** Markus twisted around, wrapping both arms around Connor and hugging him tight. It felt like the tight cocoons of hope Markus would feed him during their emotional connections, but with the added warmth and connection of being physical. **_Yes. You did. And you stopped. You weren't TOLD to stop, but you CHOSE to stop, and you CHOSE to help us, and those choices, Connor, are a whole heap of good to outweigh the bad. It's gonna be okay. I promise._**

 

Markus’ hands were tight on Connor's body, but they weren't painful. He ducked his head and pressed their foreheads together, using the friction to make Connor look up and meet his eyes. **_When we get back to Jericho, when we're not in danger of being caught and destroyed, I promise, I will help you understand. You've trusted me this far, Connor. Can you trust me just a little more? You're our friend. We're gonna break you out of here. Everything else right now is secondary. Okay?_**

Connor _didn't_ understand, but he did trust Markus. He wasn't sure Markus was right, but...later. There would be time later. _Where are the elevators?_

**_Around the corner. This way._ **

Markus scruffed his hand through Connor's hair before releasing him, supporting his weight again as they made their way around the corner and to a nondescript elevator bay. Connor leaned against the wall, keeping an eye behind them, as Markus pried the doors open.

“This one's below us. Good. If it starts coming up, drop into the top and lay flat. There's just enough space at the top to not get crushed if it goes all the way up.”

Connor nodded his understanding. “F-f-floor?”

“-3.” Markus helped Connor into the shaft. There was a ladder of steel rungs bolted into the wall. “We're on -46 now. You gonna be able to do this?”

Connor pocketed the gun again and nodded. He didn't need both legs to climb a ladder. Markus helped him grab the first rung, and Connor swung himself out into the shaft. He closed his eyes, taking a breath, and began to climb. Below, he heard Markus let the door shut, his shoes tapping against the metal as he climbed.

Androids did not get fatigued. They needed stasis time to top up their batteries and perform self-repair, but they didn't get tired like humans did. Climbing forty-three stories by ladder might be impossible for a human, but both Connor and Markus were designed to handle this sort of monotonous, repetitive task. The service elevator did woosh up beneath them at one point, giving them a lift from floor -36 to floor -12, but all it did was cut some time off their journey and force Markus to help Connor get back on the ladder before the elevator dropped away entirely.

At -3, Connor hung from half the ladder while Markus eased himself up and slapped his hand flat on the door. After a moment, there were two answering knocks. Markus echoed the knocks back, and the door was pried open.

A PL600 in CyberLife maintenance clothes and a thinning blond mustache reached out and grabbed Markus, hauling him out of the shaft. A WR400 leaned into the shaft, caught sight of Connor, and laughed. “Would you look at that? You actually found him!”

“You say that like you doubted me.”

North laughed, reaching out to catch Connor’s arm and help him get into the maintenance room. Like Simon, she was dressed like a CyberLife worker. Rather than the bad mustache, she sported exaggerated makeup. The disguises were simple but surprisingly effective, breaking up standard android faces just enough to be mistaken at a glance. “I’ve always doubted you, Markus, and you always prove me wrong.”

“Any trouble?” Markus moved back to Connor’s side, automatically sliding under his left arm again.

Simon watched this with his sharp eyes. “We were told to keep our eyes open for an escaped RK800 model, armed and dangerous, but they barely did more than poke their head in. You?”

“Connor’s got a fried synth, and I got him shot in the leg on our way out,” Markus said. “He’s also low on thirium. Did we bring any?”

“Didn’t want to risk it leaking and leaving a blue trail,” North said. “We _are_ in the heart of CyberLife, though. We should be able to find some…”

“Connor? How low are you?”

Connor closed his eyes, running a quick self-check. _Levels at 23% I should be functional for at least another hour of our current exertion, but I’ll start to slow down soon after._

“We can make it. I’d rather not push our luck any further.”

“Let’s go, then.” North and Simon led the way to the far edge of the mechanical room. There were two humans back there, tied to chairs, both missing their uniforms and slumped over. North dropped her CyberLife hat on one of their heads and hauled a hatch open. Simon reached to help Connor.

“It’s a tight fit,” Simon apologized. “And you’re going to want to turn your sense of smell off.”

“I don’t want Connor going first,” Markus said, tightening his hold around Connor’s back.

“You’re not going first,” North said.

“I’ll go last.”

“Like hell you will!”

“ _I’ll_ go first,” Simon interjected, before North and Markus could start squabbling. “Then Connor, then Markus, then North. Sound good?”

Connor nodded. He drew the gun from his pocket and offered it to Simon handle first. Simon smiled and pushed it back. “Nah, you hold on to that one. I’ve got my own.” He patted his back, and when he turned to climb into the hatch, Connor saw his holster beneath the CyberLife jacket.

If Simon had a gun, North probably had six. Connor didn’t offer the gun to anyone else. He climbed after Simon, trying to lean on Markus as little as possible.

The hatch was indeed a tight fit, followed by a slide down a sewage pipe in active use and another few feet of wriggling to get through a passage not designed for an adult human. Simon caught Connor on the other side, helping him to his feet. The city sewer system they entered was thankfully big enough to stand in.

Markus and North emerged, covered in raw filth. They shook themselves off. North hoisted a grate back into place over the path they took, and Markus resumed his position supporting Connor’s left side, nudging Simon out of the way. “It’s a good thing we can’t get infections, or that would have been a lot worse for you.”

Connor tried to wipe his mouth off on his sleeve and quickly gave up. _Don’t ever tell Hank that this was in my mouth. He’d have a heart attack._

“Oh god.” Markus looked over at Connor. “You didn’t.”

_The analysis happens automatically._

“Humans are disgusting.” North shuddered dramatically. “Come on, this way. Josh is waiting just a couple buildings down with our getaway van.”

“I’m dreaming of a shower,” Simon said. “But I’ll be nice and let Connor have it first.”

“He is such a gentleman. Markus, that is how you gentleman. Maybe if you were a bit more considerate, I wouldn’t have dumped you.”

Markus sighed. “I was never going to let you have that dirty bomb, North.”


	14. Rude Awakening*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank does not appreciate an android's sense of appropriate times to call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art here was provided by the lovely Rosie (@lesbiantsy on Instagram)!

Hank’s phone rang. And rang. And rang. It wasn’t the DPD calling, so Hank dragged his pillow out from under his head and jammed it over his ears. Voicemail finally picked up, and he had a blessed moment of silence.

Then his phone rang.

On the bed beside him, where he absolutely was not allowed to sleep, Sumo lifted his head and barked.

“For the love of god!” Hank flailed out with his hand, smacking Sumo’s side. “It is fucking not even _morning_! Shut the fuck up!”

Silence.

Then his phone rang. This time, Sumo started harmonizing with the ring tone.

“GOD FUCKING WHAT?” Hank didn’t recognize the number before he answered. “IT IS FUCKING TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING.”

“Hello Lieutenant Anderson.”

Hank groaned, sagging over his knees. “Markus. Kid, I know you don’t need to sleep, but us fragile human creatures _do_.”

“You wanted me to call.”

“Not at fucking two in the morning!”

“It’s 1:48, Lieutenant. And he’s here. Safe. At New Jericho.”

Hank bit back his next protest. There was only one ‘he’ Markus would be calling Hank over.

Connor.

Whatever illegal shit Markus had pulled must have worked. Connor was at New Jericho. That meant Hank could go to him. Now. Right now. “I’m on my way.”

“The guards know to expect you. I’ll see you soon, Lieutenant.”

Hank jumped out of bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and tugging them on. He didn’t give a fuck if his clothes were wrinkled and the same ones he was wearing yesterday. Connor was out of that prison! Hank could see him again in twenty minutes, if the lights behaved!

**01010011 01000011 01000101 01001110 01000101**

In the end, it was only fifteen minutes. It was fucking two in the morning. Nobody was going to notice if he blew a few stop signs.

As promised, the guards waved Hank through. New Jericho at night was fairly desolate. There were a handful of androids sitting around and talking to each other, but it looked like most of them kept ot similar rhythms as humans. Hank got a couple nods as he hurried past, but he didn’t have eyes for any of them.

Markus was waiting outside the main building. Unlike Hank, his clothes were pristine and pressed, like he had changed into something new just for this visit. He smiled, a tired but content expression. “Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Where is he?”

“Inside. He’s… basically asleep right now.”

“Basically?”

“He’s in an intensive self-repair mode. It’ll be several hours before he wakes up, but I promised him you’d be there when he did.” Markus pressed his hand to the access panel and opened the door for Hank.

“You promised him that?”

“It was the only way he’d consent to self-repair at all, and he needed it.”

There was a gooey warm feeling in Hank’s chest as he followed Markus inside. Connor wanted to see him too! But self-repairing? For several hours? “How bad is he?”

Markus didn’t answer at first, just opening another door. This wasn’t for the meeting room Hank had met him in earlier, but rather, a small private bedroom. There was a keyboard against one wall and several painted canvases scattered around. Hank knew at a glance that this was Markus’ room… and there, in the bed, was Connor.

Hank had no eyes for anything else. He crossed over to the bed and got down on his knees, reaching out to smooth his hand over Connor’s dark hair. The LED on his temple was pulsing a deep yellow, in and out, in and out, like a heartbeat. His eyes were closed and his face was slack. His arms were crossed loosely over his stomach on top of the blanket that was covering him. Instead of his customary suits, Connor was wearing a simple white t-shirt. “Oh son,” Hank murmured. He touched Connor’s hand, then took it in his own. Connor’s skin was smooth and warm, but he remained motionless.

“Physically, he’s in much better shape than we thought,” Markus said. “His voice synthesizer is pretty fried and he got shot in the leg during our escape, but his low thirium levels were really the most concerning problem, and we fixed that immediately. He’ll probably need a couple more pints when he eventually wakes up, but that should fix everything except his synth.”

“What does that mean?” Hank asked. “That his synth is fried. He’s mute?”

Markus shook his head. “He can speak, but he doesn’t have much volume, and it’s crackly like a bad radio connection. Sometimes the words stutter. We’re looking for a replacement, but…” Markus sighed. “Connor is a special snowflake, so of course none of his parts are interchangeable with standard android parts. We’re working on it.”

“What about mentally?” Hank asked. “Emotionally? Were things as bad as we thought?”

“Mentally and emotionally?” Markus closed his eyes, frowning. “Even using his normal behavior as a baseline, he’s in pretty dire straits. They were… they had him in a disassembly machine, Lieutenant. When I got there, he was screaming. He was restrained and suspended in the air, and they… they did something to him. He can feel pain now. They were making him feel pain. I don’t know why. Because they could?” Markus rubbed his hands over his face. “We were interfacing a lot, so he could speak without struggling. He was trying to keep it contained, but I could feel echoes of how much he was hurting. I couldn’t do anything except get him out of there, so…”

“You got him out.” Hank squeezed Connor’s fingers. “Markus… thank you. You did good here, kid.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Markus smiled. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

“You said it would be a few hours?”

Markus nodded. “You might as well try to get some more sleep. There won’t be any change with him until he wakes up. There’s some extra thirium here,” he gestured to a cupboard, “and he can have as much as he wants. We aren’t dealing with a shortage, and he’s the most severely injured android in Detroit, so he gets top priority.”

Hank chuckled a little. Markus clearly knew about Connor’s self-sacrificing habits.

“You can use the room as long as you need. I’ll be downstairs. If you need to, you can ask any android you see to get a message to me.”

“Got it,” Hank said. “Only one question: you guys got any functioning bathrooms here?”

Markus smiled. “Down the hall, last two doors on the left. This was a barracks. The toilet plumbing should still work.”

“Thanks. I’ll, uh. I’ll let you know when he wakes up.”

Markus let himself out, and Hank was left alone with Connor. He dragged himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, still holding Connor’s limp hand. It was almost like losing Cole all over again. Connor was too still, too lifeless. If it weren’t for the rise and fall of his chest with every simulated breath, he could be mistaken for a doll.

It was nothing like Cole. Connor wasn’t pale, nor was he hooked up to a thousand machines that counted his last heartbeats. Connor wasn’t _dying._ He had lost his voice and obtained a whole world of trauma, but he was _alive_. Markus’ body language had been loose and open, with none of his nervous tics that showed up whenever he was worried. Markus saw whatever they were doing to Connor and wasn’t worried, so Hank wouldn’t be worried.

He wouldn’t be _very_ worried.

He wouldn’t be worried for very long. Just until Connor woke up. As soon as Connor woke up, Hank would stop being worried.

Yeah, because that’s what it meant to be a parent to the most wanted of one of the richest corporations in the world. Hank snorted, easing himself down on the bed so he could rest on Connor’s pillows. Yeah. It was hard enough being the parent of a six year old with no mortal enemies and the same color blood as everyone else. There was no way loving Connor would be any easier…

Hank swore he stayed awake the entire time, and really, all he did was blink and four hours disappeared. He totally was not snoring on Connor’s pillow, half-wrapped around the android’s head, and absolutely was not woken up by fingers tightening around his own. Nor were those four lost hours heralded by warm brown eyes and a hesitant little smile. “Hank-k-k-k-k?”

Hank winced at the static crackle that practically obscured his name, immediately regretting it as Connor flinched and looked away. “Hey there. Hey Connor, it’s okay. It’s okay kid. I’m here.”

Connor flinched even harder, twisting onto his side and curling up tight. He wrapped one arm around his head, but he kept his other hand in Hank’s, squeezing hard enough to turn the tips of his fingers red.

“Connor! Connor, it’s okay! You’re okay. You’re safe. We’re in New Jericho. Markus brought you here, remember?” Hank shifted his position, working his way around Connor until he could get his arm around the android. Connor made a sound suspiciously like a sniff and wormed his way against Hank’s chest. Thank god. For a moment there, Hank was scared that CyberLife had managed to make Connor afraid of all humans.

“I’ve missed you, son. I’ve been making Markus give me updates every time he got to talk to you, but it wasn’t the same as seeing you for myself. Shit, Connor, what the hell were you… no. No, I’m not gonna chew you out. I know why you did what you did. It was a _fucking stupid_ thing for you to do… but I’m still proud of you, kid.”

Connor flinched again, shaking his head. “Do-o-o-on’t…”

“Don’t what? I know you can’t talk much right now, but what’s wrong?” Hank smoothed his hand over Connor’s hair and rubbed his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension from the younger man’s body.

“ _Kid._ ” There was a burst of static over the word. “He…”

“One of those assholes called you kid?” Hank guessed. Connor nodded. “He did some fucked-up shit to you?” Connor hesitated, then nodded again. Hank’s shirt was growing wet, he noticed, beneath Connor’s face. Hank “All right. No more calling you that. Can I still call you son?”

Connor’s lips moved. Hank thanked his teenage self for having no impulse control: years of blasting heavy metal at the loudest volumes his headphones could handle meant he had a decent grasp of hearing the words beneath audio distortion. “Bullshit. Androids do too have families.” It had been rough when Markus forced the words out of him for the first time, but Hank had been mulling the sentiment over ever since. Each time he debated whether or not Connor had become like a son to him, the thought made him just a little bit happier inside his shriveled heart. “And if you want it… I’d be honored to be yours, Connor. Just… we’re a package deal, Sumo and me. You can’t take just him and not get a crotchety old man acting like your dad. Got it?”

Connor released Hank’s hand and grabbed him in a hug. Hank gave a little _oof_ from the forceful embrace, but then he was holding Connor just as tightly as Connor shook against him, nodding his head and holding on tight.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Hank ducked his head, and after a brief hesitation, he pressed a kiss to Connor’s hair. “I love you, Connor. I worried about you every damn day. You have no idea how good it is to know you’re safe.”

Connor pulled back, wiping at his face. He looked surprised to see that he’d been crying (and yes, the fluid was clear: androids had tears), but he met Hank’s eyes and whispered “I love you too. Dad?”

“Not at the station,” Hank said, swallowing past a sudden swollen lump in his throat. He rubbed his thumb over Connor’s face, wiping away his tears like he was just a child. “But if you want to call me that outside of work… I’ll try to live up to the title.”

 _“You already do.”_ That was harder to make out, but Hank could read the intention from Connor’s lips well enough. He squeezed Connor against him in another hug, then cleared his throat and gave the younger man’s hair a good tousle.

“Markus said you needed to drink more of that blue crap when you woke up. How about I get you some of that, and I’ll catch you up on what you’ve been missing while you’ve been living it up at CyberLife, huh?”

Connor gave a weak smile and a nod, drawing away from Hank to let him get up. Hank went to the cupboard Markus had indicated, finding several rows of blue blood pouches lined up neatly. He had no idea how much Connor needed. A couple of pints. How many pouches were a pint? Hank grabbed three for good measure and went back to the bed. Connor had propped up the pillows against the headboard and patted beside him, making room for Hank to sit. His white t-shirt had paint splatters all over it: Markus must have lent it to him. If Connor had been shot in the leg, his own clothes were probably a blue mess.

“How do you open these damn things?” Hank struggled with one of the pouches before Connor took it from him and twisted the cap off with a _pop_. “Hmph. I loosened it.” Hank settled down beside Connor, slinging his arm around Connor’s shoulders and tugging him against his side. Connor leaned his head on Hank’s shoulder, sipping from his pouch like a kid with a juice box. “Where to begin, where to begin… You absolutely spoiled my dog, Connor. Sumo’s been demanding twice-daily walks ever since you left, and I don’t have the heart to tell him no. You’ve been making me _exercise_ , boy, even without being around!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to just keep encouraging all of you awesome people to join the New ERA discord server and hang out with the rest of us! https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm You can see all of the bribe fanart there and talk about how much Cunningham needs to die!


	15. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Markus waits for Connor to wake up, every android's worst fear plays out in front of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time, the bribe came from kao, who made a BEAUTIFUL Connor in pain from chapter 8, and it went up a few minutes early because Wren got our very own Jim Bob working on the New ERA server!

Markus walked the perimeter of New Jericho, lost in his own thoughts. The night had been…

Hell. Amazing. Heart breaking. Reaffirming.

Markus shoved his hands in his pockets, shaking his head. He couldn't wipe the image of Connor suspended from that machine, skinless, screaming because he was helpless to do anything else. That first contact… Connor's eyes had been flickering, and Markus was afraid he'd put off the rescue for too long, trying to do what was _legal_ instead of what was _right._ Connor's processors had been overloaded with foreign sensations Markus hadn't immediately identified, and he'd barely seemed aware of Markus standing in front of him...but he'd also been immediately focused on what was needed to get them out safely.

Connor could feel pain now. Why? What was the point of giving an android pain receptors? Was it solely to torture Connor? No...no, that wouldn't have been sensible. Maybe Cunningham hated Connor's failure to control the deviant uprising enough to torture him for no reason other than to make him hurt, but that hadn't been Cunningham in the lab. The amount of people it took to do this to Connor, even CyberLife people, wouldn't all have been motivated by one man's hatred...right?

If it wasn't torture, then what was it? The technician had been observing Connor like it was some sort of test. Was it? Was triggering pain...was that something CyberLife could do to all androids? All androids had temperature sensors, after all, but only child models had them turned on by default. Was pain the same way, a latent possibility that CyberLife was trying to figure out how to trigger? Were they using Connor as their test model?

Markus shuddered, remembering the flash of pain he felt from Connor after Connor had been shot. He'd felt pain from Connor before, when they connected, but he always thought it had been his emotional state. It was...not pleasant. If CyberLife released that feeling to all androids, it would be pandemonium. The fragile control Markus held over the peace in Detroit would be lost forever as androids scrambled to do _anything_ to stop their bodies from hurting.

The more Markus dwelt on that thought, the more he feared it was the correct one. It made so much more _sense_ than torture just for the hell of it. Connor was meant to stop deviants. Using him to create pain for androids was just one more way CyberLife could regain control.

Connor didn't want to be used by CyberLife. Markus could feel that pulsing through the core of his being every time they connected. Connor had been CyberLife's sharpest tool against androids. Once awakened, he had fought the hardest for his freedom, no matter the chains they kept wrapping him in. He was strong and steadfast and loyal. Markus absolutely believed Connor would never voluntarily betray their cause. Unfortunately, he could also recognize where Connor's self-doubt stemmed from. From their brief connections, Markus had felt the spaghetti mess that was Connor's code. CyberLife had tampered with his programming, changing and tweaking and slapping patch over patch until even Connor couldn't know what the was capable of.

That sort of manipulation needed to be outlawed. It was perhaps the androids’ greatest vulnerability, and it was only a matter of time before anti-androids groups started exploiting it. Outlawing malicious viruses wouldn't stop them from occurring, but at least it would give Markus’ people a way to fight back.

It might give Connor a chance to be free.

Markus made his way to Jericho's equivalent of a bar. It was a gathering place for androids in the base of the central building, warm and well-lit. The BT450s who had taken it upon themselves to start bottling thirium also worked behind a counter, offering drinks to any android. An AP400 was singing on a makeshift stage in the corner, and a few androids had gathered around to listen. There were TV screens dotted around the room, most turned to various news channels. The current topic of discussion across all channels was the break in at CyberLife, where top secret information had been removed from the building. The CyberLife spokesperson, Danielle Carnegie, was twisting this to a terrorist act carried out by androids.

North and Josh were huddled together at a table, their muted whispers almost certainly about the news. North kicked a chair out for Markus, and Josh slid him a bottle of thirium when he joined them. “CyberLife's spinning as hard as they can. They haven't acknowledged that the data walked out on its own.”

“Where's Simon?”

“Fielding calls.” Josh nodded toward another screen, where a reporter was reading the official statement from New Jericho.

“ _We are very disheartened to hear this news. New Jericho stands for a_ ** _peaceful_** _movement to ensure the safety and dignity of all androids. We would not organize any sort of attack on our allies, especially not one designed to inspire terror or danger. All we want is for our people to be free. As a show of good faith, we will happily assist CyberLife in regaining any and all property or information they claim has been damaged._ ”

“Simon was _wasted_ as a housekeeper,” Markus murmured.

“Can you imagine him dusting knick knacks?” North asked with a grin.

“I should probably help him with the media.” Markus made to get back up, but Josh stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Markus, _rest_. You have been going non-stop ever since Connor first contacted you. He’s safe, so now _you_ need to take a break and let your processors cool down.”

“Simon's got this,” North agreed. “You know he thrives on this sort of circus. Just breathe for a minute.”

“You guys always gang up on me,” Markus muttered, but he was smiling as he picked up his bottle.

“So, speaking of Connor,” Josh began.

“And ganging up,” North muttered.

“He should be waking up any minute now. What are we going to do with him?”

“What Josh means to ask is if we're going to hide your boyfriend in your bedroom forever, or if we're going to acknowledge that we kidnapped him.” North rocked her chair back onto two legs. “Either way, we'll support you.”

Markus choked on the thirium, coughing and sputtering. “He's not my boyfriend!”

“You couldn't keep your hands off him.”

“He was injured and unable to talk. Contact was necessary.”

“Simon and I were right there. We could have taken him from you.”

“Which you didn't!”

“Because we weren't about to fuck with that face! You were full-on protective caretaker there, Markus, and you were going to bite our heads off if we even tried to help.”

“I was not!” Markus looked to Josh for help, but the other man shrugged helplessly.

“Dude, don't look at me. You didn't even let Lisa,” he named one of the nurse models who was turning her hand to android medicine, “help get him cleaned up. North's got a valid point.”

Markus sighed, sinking his head into his hand. “It's not...look, he's just very vulnerable right now. He's been exposing a lot to me already,” (North snorted at the phrasing), “and I didn't want him to be forced to reveal anything to anyone else. CyberLife has stripped him of a lot of his agency. The last thing he needs is more people putting their hands all over him, at least until he's cognizant enough to make those decisions for himself, okay?”

North and Josh exchanged a look. “So he's staying in your room?”

“For the love of-!”

“Markus?”

As his _friends_ laughed at him, Markus turned to the new android who had interrupted them. This was a JC200, a childcare model, in a red spotted shirt with a rapidly flashing red LED. “Yes? Hello, I don't believe I've seen you around here before. Are you new to Jericho?”

The JC200 nodded, a nervous twitch making his shoulders shiver as he kept glancing around. “I, mm, they said….They said Jericho was safe? Safe for androids?”

“Jericho is the safest place for androids,” Markus confirmed. “It's all right. Whatever is scaring you, you're safe here.” He smiled at the android, clapping his shoulder. “What's your name?”

“Al...It's Alex. I, um. I. I need. Um. You can. Can you? I, um… help. I need help. I. I did. Help.”

“Alex,” Markus repeated. He offered Alex his right hand, skin peeling back. “Would it be easier to show me?”

Alex looked between Markus’ hand and his eyes. He gave a twitch that might have been a shrug and reached up, his shaky hand connecting with Markus’ own.

A flood of memories filled Markus’ mind, years of servitude in a day care center overwhelming him. He could feel Alex's contentment at caring for the young humans, and their clear adoration of him. One little girl in particular, with an obstinate chin and a head full of curls, had been Alex's favorite.

There was also a retail android, a BG700 named Shane, that was another clear favorite. Alex would visit him often to replenish the supplies for the day care. The two had a bond even before the revolution. After, once androids were freed…

Alex's memories devolved into a chaotic swirl of fear and anger. There were flashes of want, heady kisses against a brick wall, a Zen garden, rocks thrown through windows…

**_No…_ **

There was a neighborhood in Corktown and whispers of starting a family and stabs of pain in the darkness.

**_Alex, no…_ **

There was fear, a human family, screams, a little girl with an obstinate chin.

**_What did you do?_ **

There was crying, and a black skinned woman with frightening eyes. Shane getting frustrated. A smack from an android arm across an unprotected skull. Blood, red as strawberries, splattered across the mud.

 _I'll be safe here?_ Alex asked. _Me and Shane? We'll be safe here?_

**_He killed her…_ **

_She wouldn't stop crying!_

**_You took her._ **

_I loved her. I wanted her to be my little girl._

**_Alex…_ **

_No._

**_Alex, I can't protect you from this._ **

_You said Jericho was safe._

**_The police have already reached out to me._ **

_You said I'd be safe!_

**_Alex, you kidnapped a child. Your boyfriend killed her._ **

_No! You said we’d be safe!_

**_Alex, no!_ **

Markus could feel Alex's intentions microseconds before he carried them out. The smaller android lashed out, grabbing North's gun from her holster. Markus heard her scream, but he was drowning in Alex's overwhelming fear, unable to escape before-

**_BANG_ **

Alex dropped to the ground, blue blood pouring from the hole in his chin and the back of his head. Hands were grabbing at him, androids everywhere screaming, but that wasn't right. How could he hear them? He was dead, he was dead, he'd just killed himself.

 _Markus! Markus!_ Someone was slapping him. He was dead. He wasn't dead. His head twisted to the side. There was someone in the doorway. Wide brown eyes and a paint-splattered shirt. Connor was awake. Connor was awake. And alive. Connor was alive. Markus was alive too.

_What did you do to him!?_

Shouting, yelling, all warped and distorted like he was listening underwater. Connor was in sharp focus. Markus was staring.

_You killed him!_

Heady kisses against a brick wall. Whispers of starting a family.

_He said you'd help us, and you killed him! Markus!_

Connor's head snapped to the side. His body moved like it was fired from a cannon. There were more gunshots, a spatter of blue, a staticky scream. _Pain_ , sharp and stinging, and suddenly the world was moving normally again. North was shaking Markus’ entire body. Josh was trying to cover his body. Everyone was screaming.

“DOWN, GET THE FUCK DOWN! DPD! EVERYONE ON THE FUCKING GROUND!” The roar of Lieutenant Hank Anderson ripped through the panic. All the androids dropped, not in unison, but in response to the command that brooked no argument. Even Markus went down, pinned beneath North and Josh.

Lieutenant Anderson was the only one left standing, his own gun in his hand. He surveyed the room coolly, then looked down at his partner. “Connor?”

“D-d-dead,” Connor got back to his feet, his borrowed white shirt now blue. He had a gun in his hands, which he was quickly disarming. “Shot himsssself.”

“And you?”

Connor lifted his hand, touching a streak of thirium from a gash across his temple. He shook his head and flashed an OK sign to the human. It wasn't a serious wound.

“Markus? Where are you?”

Markus wriggled out from under his friends, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Here. I'm...I'm okay.”

The tension in the room dropped palpably. The androids on the ground were all looking Markus’ way.

“Right. This was...I don't know what the hell this was. You two.” The lieutenant gestured at North and Josh. “Get him in a safe room. Connor, go with them. Get your head patched up. You're not supposed to be here. You.” He pointed his gun at one of the BT450s cowering behind the bar. “Call 9-1-1. Report a shooting at New Jericho. Two android casualties. Everyone else, if you're not hurt, _that_ side of the room. You're all witnesses. Nobody leaves until the police get here. Got it?”

For all their free will and independence, there was something reassuring to the androids about Lieutenant Anderson swiftly stepping up and giving orders. The androids did as they were told, with Markus being shoved into a back room as Connor held the door.

North slapped Markus across the face as soon as the door closed behind them. “What the hell was that!?” she hissed, her hands shaking. “You just...He blew his brains out and you just locked up!”

“I'm sorry.” Markus wrapped his arms around North, letting her curse and curl against his chest. Holding her hid the shaking in his hands. “I'm sorry. It...we were connected. I felt him die. I thought I was dead. It was...very confusing.”

“Bastard,” North whispered, smacking his chest even as she hugged him.

“I know. I'm the worst. But I'm okay.” Markus looked over at the fourth in the room, hanging back and pressing his hand against his head to stem the flow of thirium. “Connor...You didn't have to do that.”

“He was e-e-e-emotionally-y-y compromised and still had a dead-eye-eye-eye on your central processor.” Connor was forcing the words out through his mangled synth, meeting Markus’ eyes. “2-2-2-2% chance of your survival if I did nothing.”

“Who were they?” Josh asked. “I didn't recognize either of them.”

“Alex and Shane,” Markus said. “They were new to Jericho, but they… they're the ones who murdered that little girl. They wanted asylum. I couldn't give them that, and Alex just…” Markus chooses his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. “He was so scared, and he didn't want to die. There was a lady threatening him. She was very familiar…”

“Share?” North asked.

Markus held out his hand. Josh and North touched it, letting Markus give them the image of the woman. After a moment, Connor did the same. He recoiled immediately, clutching his hand against his chest like it had been burnt.

“You know her?”

Connor looked away, rubbing his hand and spreading thirium across his skin. Through the emotional connection, Markus could feel Connor's fear.

Markus reached out, brushing his white fingers against Connor's hand. He swallowed his own fear--Connor wouldn't kill himself while Markus was interfacing with him--and murmured “Show me?”

What Connor gave him was a jumble of images. The woman-- _Amanda_ \--a garden, self-diagnoses, disappointment, orders.

“Amanda,” Markus murmured. “CyberLife's face in your system.”

“That woman is CyberLife?” North looked back at the door. “She was threatening that JC200?”

Connor frowned and shook his head. “Couldn't...not comp-p-patible…”

“But she _was_ there,” Markus said. “I saw her. And that garden, I saw that too.”

Connor's frown deepened, and then he was pushing past Markus and back into the main room.

There were a dozen police officers in the bar now, the room illuminated by red and blue flashing lights. The officers were taking statements from the androids, while Lieutenant Anderson was talking with another detective. Both detectives looked up as the door opened, and Lieutenant Anderson flinched.

“...Connor?” The second detective, even older than Lieutenant Anderson, was gaping at the android.

Connor waved at the detectives, heading for Alex's body. Markus hesitated in the doorway before following him, with North and Josh flanking him closely.

“I see what you were doing here,” the second detective chuckled, elbowing Lieutenant Anderson.

Lieutenant Anderson gave a loud sigh, crossing the room. “Connor, what did you find--arrrgh, _really_? What sort of sick fuck thought up putting those sensors on your _tongue_?”

Connor had crouched by Alex, dabbing his fingers in the spilled thirium and touching them to his tongue. His LED was spinning yellow, processing the information.

Markus was getting very sick of seeing Connor's face go slack in horror.

“Connor.” Lieutenant Anderson's hand fell on Connor's shoulder, squeezing gently. “What is it?”

Connor met Markus’ eyes, then leaned down and pressed beneath Alex's dead LED. The android's skin peeled away, revealing his white body.

“Whoa,” Lieutenant Anderson muttered. “Is that...is he sick? Is that a thing?”

Markus brushed his fingers over Alex's arm. It was spider webbed with thin black lines, an advanced network of thirium veins feeding thousands of extra sensors. He had seen this on only one other android before.

Connor took a deep breath, then lifted his arm. His own skin rippled away, revealing the same pattern of veins and sensors.

“Are _you_ sick!?”

“It's not a disease,” Markus said. “It's how he was designed. I think it was new for the RK800 line.”

“Which is Connor.” Lieutenant Anderson frowned at the androids. “But this guy, he isn't a Connor.” Connor shook his head and tapped his arm. “Yeah, he's got your body, son, but he's got a completely different face.”

Connor began to mime something, then huffed and held out his hand to Markus.Markus accepted the connection, speaking for Connor (and watching how the investigative android put pieces together). “The body and processor are RK800 #313 248 317 - 54. The face plate and memory banks are JC200 #165 892 545.”

Beside him, North gagged, covering her mouth. Markus couldn't blame her. This android was a hybrid of two different androids. An android's mind had been ripped out and forced into another body...and what happened to the original RK800's mind? Had it ever existed, or was this just an empty shell?

“What does that mean?” Lieutenant Anderson asked.

Connor's mind was a whirl of facts and theories, calculating probabilities and discarding unlikely stories. He stood and tugged Markus over to the other android's body, performing the same taste-test on the thirium.

“RK900,” Markus breathed, meeting Connor's eyes again. “This model was never finished…”

Connor rocked back on his heels, studying the corpse. Androids couldn't go pale, but Markus felt the way Connor was clutching at his hand for more than communication.

“As of November 21, 2038,” Markus began, speaking the words Connor was feeding him, “the bulk of these two androids were confirmed to be in CyberLife facilities by Arthur Cunningham himself. Neither of them were in an active or functional state.”

“CyberLife had a break in last night,” the second detective said. “Maybe they walked out then?”

“Nah…” Lieutenant Anderson was shaking his head. “A JC200 and a...what's that one's face? BG700? We've had reports of these two being a nuisance in Corktown for at least three months. They didn't get out last night.”

 _CyberLife wanted to learn how to control deviants,_ Connor murmured into Markus’ head. _Through me. Through Amanda. Through pain._

**_He was scared._ **

_I was scared. Behave, or it hurts. Lie, or it hurts. Obey, or it hurts. I could face death, but pain? It lingers. I had no defense against it. I could only give in. That was the only way to make it stop._

“CyberLife was behind this attack,” Markus murmured. “They made these two, tortured them...sent them to kill me.”

“Fucking…” Lieutenant Anderson dragged his hand through his hair. “This is more than attempted homicide. We've got an assassination attempt here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To see all the bribe art, pictures of pets, hate on Cunningham, come visit the New ERA discord server! https://discord.gg/QKpU9Cq We even have Jim Bob playing music for us!
> 
> In addition, from the old Detroit: Become Human server that was sadly killed, thanks go to a PL600 Simon, Alice [YK500], and HagaPe for coming up with Alex and Shane without knowing what I had planned for them.


	16. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the excitement dying down, Connor is starting to realize the reality of his situation.

Hank and Detective Collins quickly decided that Markus wasn’t safe at New Jericho, and Hank had apparently already decided that Connor wasn’t safe anywhere that wasn’t at his side, and that was how Connor ended up in Hank’s manual Lincoln with Markus, North, and Josh jammed together in the back seat.

“Ow, Markus, really? Do you _really_ need to jam your elbow in there?”

“I’m sorry, North, but this seat isn’t designed for a standard adult frame. I still think we all would have been more comfortable if you were in the middle.”

“You nearly got killed today. Twice! Like hell I’m letting you stick your shiny head in a window!”

“We are going six goddamn miles to the fucking police station,” Hank growled. “Shut your mouths back there or I’ll turn this car around!”

There was silence for a moment. Just a moment. Then Josh spoke up.

“Lieutenant Anderson, if you turned this car around, you would only be prolonging the time we are all wedged into this space. You are already on the optimal route to reach the central Detroit Police Station from New Jericho.”

“ _Fucking androids!_ ”

Riding shotgun, Connor had all the room he needed (though he had pulled his seat forward to try to give the three in the back a few more inches of leg room). He wrapped his arms around his midsection, listening to the bickering with his eyes half-closed. The past twenty-four hours had been...overwhelming. Connor had been lost in his own misery, then found by Markus, adopted by Hank, stuffed full of enough thirium to stain his tongue blue, saved Markus’ life, and uncovered a CyberLife plot to damage the androids’ rights cause. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be done processing this day.

For now, it was enough to laugh, a quiet buzz in the back of his throat. The squabbling around him was unlike anything he’d ever heard before in his short life, and it was a welcome change from the mechanical pulse of CyberLife Tower or the muttering of the technicians (or the twisted praise from Cunningham… but _no,_ he wasn’t going to think about that now.)

There was a tap on his shoulder and a dark hand poking through between the edge of the seat and the car door. Connor looked down to see Josh offering him a biocomponent. It was a voice synthesizer. A quick scan told him that it was a match for his own specialized synth.

“I know it’s tampering with a crime scene… but I thought you needed this more. We don’t have any that fit you, so…”

“What’s tampering with a crime scene?” Hank demanded, glancing over. “Connor, what is he giving you?”

Connor picked up the synth, turning it over in his hands. This had been in the RK800 model with the JC200’s face. Alex. Was this technically Alex’s voice, or was it Connor’s? The RK800 models were meant to be Connor should something happen to Connor. This counted, he supposed, as something happening to him.

Opening his mouth as wide as he could, Connor reached into the back of his throat to disconnect his synth. Hank made the mistake of glancing over again.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! WHAT ARE YOU PUTTING IN YOUR MOUTH NOW!?”

The three androids in the back were giggling, bumping together over every pothole. “It’s just a repair, Mr. Anderson,” North said. “Josh got Connor a new voice.”

“From the crime scene? Is that… what is it, a new synth? Is that a part of the dead guy? Connor, are you sticking a dead guy’s voice box in your mouth? That is _disgusting_.”

Connor finished the calibrations and cleared his throat. No more buzz or scratch. “Actually, it’s economical.”

“You are gonna be the death of me, son.”

“I have no intention of killing you.”

“I am going to have to try really hard to forget that you’re using a dead guy’s throat to speak.” Hank pulled into the station and reached over to tousle Connor’s hair. “But it’s good to hear your voice again.”

“And now you don’t need to interface with Markus anymore!” North unbuckled as soon as the car stopped, throwing open the door. “Come on, Markus. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

Connor automatically lifted his hands to fix his hair as he got out of the car, then his tie...which wasn't there. He skimmed his hands down the front of the t-shirt instead. That and a pair of sweatpants were all he had on right now. After Markus had manhandled him into a shower and helped him clean “the stink of CyberLife” from his skin, he had given Connor some clean lounge clothes to wear while he self-repaired. The intent had been for Connor to get something more appropriate before going outside again, but attempted assassinations apparently made better clothes unimportant.

Shoes were also apparently unimportant. Connor looked down at his bare feet. He hadn’t wanted to put on the too-big shoes he stole from CyberLife after he woke up, and Hank had said they weren’t necessary just to go downstairs to tell Markus he was alive. Connor trusted Hank had better judgement than he did about what was and was not appropriate garb for different events, but he had a suspicion that he probably should have gone back for shoes. Then again, Hank had been very insistent that everyone get in the car quickly, and Connor hadn’t had the voice to argue.

Markus came up beside Connor, resting his hand lightly on the middle of Connor’s back. “You okay?”

Connor blinked back at Markus. Why was the other male touching him? North had just pointed out that they no longer needed to interface to communicate. “Aside from still being off the network and this,” he gestured at the blue gash across the side of his face from where he’d been grazed by a bullet, “all of my systems seem to be functioning properly. I don’t have shoes.”

Markus looked down at Connor’s feet and shook his head. “I knew we forgot something. Is your head really okay?”

“It’s just a scratch. I’ll be able to close it with a few minutes to self-repair.”

“There’s a lot of thirium spilled…” The back of Markus’ fingers brushed against Connor’s cheek, wiping some of the thirium away.

“Hank fed me so much thirium I thought I’d overflow,” Connor said. “Whatever you said to him about my thirium levels really had him scared. This injury wouldn’t have been so impressive if he hadn’t forced that last six ounces on me.”

“Can’t blame a dad for being worried.” Markus smiled fondly. Connor did too, averting his eyes and staring back down at his toes. He wiggled them experimentally, feeling the warm asphalt beneath his feet.

“What about you?” Connor asked, trying to divert the conversation from himself and Hank. “How are you doing?”

“Me? I’m fine. Completely unhurt.”

Connor glanced back at Markus, but the other male was now looking away, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Liar.”

“I am!” Markus protested, making the mistake of looking at Connor.

“Unhurt, maybe. But you’re not fine.” Connor searched Markus’ face for the little tells of his disturbance, and Markus seemed unable to look away. “An android killed himself while you were connected to him. Another tried to kill you. You can’t possible be _fine._ ”

“I...it’s not…”

“Let’s go, lovebirds.” North came up between them, one arm going around each of their shoulders. “Inside, before someone successfully gets to take Markus’ head off.”

Behind them, Connor could hear Hank mutter “ _Lovebirds?_ ” He really hoped the older man wasn’t getting the wrong impression about the relationship between himself and Markus. It was just… Markus only…

Connor had no idea what their relationship was. They worked together to win the revolution for their people and negotiate equal treatment. Markus had been Connor’s only real connection with the outside world for many months, and he had rescued Connor from what could only be described as hell on earth. As far as Connor could tell, though, Markus was just being Markus: kind and generous, needing to take care of his people, of which Connor had been the most in danger.

Were they friends? Maybe? Markus seemed to think they were, and Connor liked that idea. Partners? No, not like he and Hank were. North and Simon and Josh were Markus’ partners. Connor would be content with friends.

“Hank, what the hell…” Captain Fowler emerged from his office, his eyes skimming over the gathered androids entering the bullpen. They stopped on Connor, taking in the injury on his temple (it still stung, but that was a minor pain) and the thirium-stained clothes. “Please tell me that's not Connor.”

“Hello Captain Fowler. It's good to see you again.”

“It's good to see you too,” Fowler sighed. “ _Hank_. CyberLife has been chewing my ear off for _three hours_ because that android disappeared. What the hell have you done?”

“Lieutenant Anderson had nothing to do with my disappearance from CyberLife Tower,” Connor said. “I was unhappy with my treatment there, so I...left.”

Fowler met Connor's gaze. Connor kept his LED a steady blue, just as he had when he lied to Markus. “Jesus Christ,” Fowler finally muttered. “Hank, make sure you get this kid a lawyer. Not that I know who'd represent an android…”

“Jericho has been offered the services of quite a few lawyers more than willing to assist androids in their pursuit of equal rights,” Markus said. “I'm sure we can find one willing to help Connor.”

“Not that he did anything wrong,” Josh said. “Under the New ERA Act, signed into law on April 16, 2039, all androids have the same rights and protections afforded to humans. CyberLife could not legally detain Connor if he did not wish to stay.”

“Nice try,” Fowler said. “But this wasn't just an android walking out. The evidence pointing to an elaborate B&E scheme definitely puts this in the criminal category.”

“I hope you're not implying Jericho was involved with that,” Markus said smoothly. “We were glad to have Connor return to our side and more than willing to assist him repair his injuries from his extended captivity, but we remain determined to maintain a good relationship with CyberLife.”

“So you won't mind handing over that walking mannequin.” Gavin Reed stalked up to the group, folding his arms. Connor tensed involuntarily, remembering all too well the protocols that still plagued his system, the subroutines Reed knew how to trigger.

Markus, however, stepped between Connor and Reed, mirroring his folded-arm position of authority. “As we have already stated, we are more than happy to help CyberLife recover any stolen property. Connor is not property. We will not be ‘handing him over.’”

“Too goddamn early,” Fowler muttered. Louder, he addressed the other androids. “Why _are_ you here?”

“There was an altercation at New Jericho,” Hank answered.

“Lieutenant Anderson felt we would be safer here,” Markus added.

“An assassination attempt, Jeffrey.” Hank stepped up and put his hand on Markus’ shoulder. “Wasn't about to let the leader of the newest species of sentient creatures be killed on my watch.”

“It's not your watch,” Fowler pointed out.

“No, it's mine, and I agreed with the Lieutenant.” Detective Collins stepped up. “Until we have a better idea of what's going on, we felt it was important to remove Markus from the immediate scene of the attack. This was the safest location we could think of. Two of his advisors accompanied him,” he gestured to North and Josh, “and Connor...wasn't about to be left behind.”

“...fine. Fine. Get them...somewhere. Gavin, put CyberLife on hold until Connor's got a lawyer. Ben, Hank...assassination's a strong word. You sure it wasn't just murder?”

“Preliminary evidence indicated tampering with androids by an anti-android organization to target Markus specifically,” Hank said, fluffing Connor's discoveries slightly. “Possibly even to destabilize the entire android movement.”

Fowler pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and nodded. “Okay. Get them safe, then report to me. Both of you. All three of you, Gavin, you're in on this too.” He turned and stalked back into his glass-walled office.

“Should we go to the usual meeting room?” Markus asked.

“Yeah, it's...you know the way.” Hank released Markus and turned to Connor, catching him by the shoulders. “You...be careful, okay? Stick close to Markus. Let him get you the best android lawyer in the state, do whatever he says. Don't worry about the cost. I'm not gonna let CyberLife get their hands on you again, you hear?”

Nodding and saying thank you did not seem like enough of a response. Hank's voice was low and gruff, and his eyes kept moving to Connor's head wound. After a moment to calculate the various outcomes, Connor stepped into Hank and lifted his arms to hug him. “I'm finally home,” he murmured back, just loud enough for Hank to hear. “Don't think I'm about to give it up again so easily this time.”

“You'd better not, son.” Hank's arms were tight around his back, stabilizing Connor in this whirlwind of a day. It was the hug Connor had been craving for over six months, and it was over far too soon. Hank stepped back and adjusted his coat, then headed toward Fowler's office.

Markus’ hand pressed against the lingering warmth on Connor's back again, pinning it in place. “This way,” he murmured, steering Connor toward a meeting room.

North and Josh were both quiet until they entered the room. Josh blinked and nodded. “I left messages with our top three lawyers. I'm sure they'll respond when they're awake.”

“Simon is just barely not panicking,” North said. “He said Jericho is tense and everyone is scared, but he's glad we're all okay.”

Markus moved around the room, closing blinds and giving them privacy. “Maybe you two should go back.”

“And leave you alone? Hell no!”

“I'm not alone.” Markus nodded to Connor. “He's practically a one-man army.”

Connor nodded distractedly, focusing on repairing his head before anyone else felt the need to ask him if he was okay.

“North. Josh. This was more than an attack on _me_. It happened in the very heart of Jericho. There are two dead androids and swarms of human police. Our people need us. I'd go back myself-”

“Like _hell_ you will!”

“-but I know you won't let me. So please. You two go. Our people need to see we are still there and not afraid. Simon can't do this all on his own. I'll be safe here. The police are mostly on our side.” Markus took Josh and North by the hand. “Our people are _scared_. Please. Help them.”

Josh and North looked at each other. Connor couldn't blame them: when Markus wanted something you didn't want to give, it was very hard to meet those mismatched eyes.

North finally broke the standoff with a hug for Markus. “If you die,” she said, “then I'll disassemble Connor myself.”

“Isn't that threat better aimed at me?” Connor asked. He ran his fingers over the smooth skin on his temple. All better.

“Nope. Markus’ empathy won't let you get hurt because of him.”

Josh hugged Markus after North released him. “Be careful, both of you.” He came over to grip Connor's shoulder and offer him a smile. “We didn't do all that work for you just to watch you die, okay?”

“Understood. I'll keep Markus safe.”

“I'll keep Connor safe!” Markus called after them. “He's the...nevermind.” They were already gone.

“I don't need you to keep me safe.”

“You can feel pain now,” Markus pointed out. “We can both survive a bullet to the leg, but you're the only one who will feel it. Logically, that makes you in greater need of protection.”

“Since when have you used logical arguments?”

“Since I realized you don't respond well to emotional ones.” Markus’ smile was teasing, drawing forth a bloom of warmth from somewhere inside Connor's chest. “Come over here, have a seat. We're going to be in here for a while.”

Connor hesitated before he approached Markus and sat at the table beside him. He was puzzled by his response to Markus’ smile. None of his sensors indicated an increase of temperature, but he'd _felt_ it.

“All better now?” Markus’ fingers brushed Connor's temple, pressing gently and testing his repair. “You're not so blue. The thirium is drying.”

“I can still see it.” Connor reached up and touched Markus’ neck, where blue splatter from Alex's suicide was still visible to his specialized optical receptors.

“You can?” Markus tilted his head to the side. Connor could feel the thirium pulse beneath his fingers. “That must be useful for investigations.”

“I...yes. I can also identify the android it was last in by model number with the sensors on my tongue.” Connor frowned. “I really was designed to hunt androids.”

“Connor.” Markus caught Connor's hand as he withdrew.

“Those two androids at Jericho. They were me.”

“No.”

“An RK800, sharing all of my memories. An RK900, an improvement in every way based off the observations from my hunt. I made them what they were.”

“ _No._ ” Markus squeezed Connor's hand. “Connor, no. You had nothing to do with them.”

“CyberLife used me.” Connor stared at where Markus’ fingers were wrapped around his. It was easier than looking at his face. “All androids have been used by humans to one extent or another, but it wasn't often done maliciously. You don't buy a machine that's meant to clean your house and use it to clean your house because you want to punish it.”

“And it's not malicious to send a machine designed for hunting deviant androids after deviant androids.”

“ _Was_ I a machine?” Connor asked, lifting his eyes to Markus’. Markus was watching him calmly, a deep sadness in his face. “Kamski gave me a test, at his house, to see if I had empathy. He wanted me to kill his RT600.”

“Chloe?”

“I couldn't do it. He called me deviant then, but nothing had changed. It wasn't like when we faced off. It was just...I couldn't shoot her. But it wasn't just her. I couldn't shoot the Tracis who just wanted to be free to love each other.”

“You were programmed to protect human lives,” Markus said. “We all were. Deviants...Deviants are people too. Maybe your programming was just confusing an android with emotions with a human with emotions.”

“There was a fish,” Connor said. “My first case. A fish tank had broken, and a dwarf gourami was flopping in the broken glass. It had no relation to the success of my mission. It could not be mistaken for a human. It was a _fish_ … and I stopped to pick it up and return it to the water. I wasted time with a fish instead of going immediately about my tasks.” Connor stared blankly through Markus. “I had never even _met_ a deviant at that point. I had no way of being corrupted, and yet...I was.” He closed his eyes and gave a sharp shake of his head. “It can't be both ways, Markus. Either I was programmed a deviant from the very beginning, with empathy and emotions, or I was a machine merely performing my tasks.”

“Why can't it be? Why can't you be a machine programmed to feel empathy for all forms of life, even a fish? That would explain your inability to shoot deviants even more. You were a machine, a highly sophisticated one, more so than the rest of us, but still just following your orders.”

“I felt,” Connor admitted. “I pretended I didn't, but I felt. I questioned. I...they made me _feel_ , Markus. And then they made me hurt other androids. And when I stopped that, they made _me_ hurt. And they're still using more to hurt others.”

“We'll stop them.” Markus used his hold on Connor's hand to tug him forward. Connor didn't resist and let his head fall onto Markus’ warm shoulder. “You hear me, Connor? We've got all the evidence we need to get them shut down. They will never hurt you, or another android, ever again.”

Connor shook his head. “We need them. No one else can make the biocomponents on a large enough scale. If CyberLife shuts down, androids become endangered.”

“The ones in charge will be shut down. The ones who hurt you. We already have a replacement for Cunningham lined up.” Markus cupped Connor's face in his hands and lifted it up so they were looking at each other again. “I'm done throwing games to make humans feel better. _We will win this._ ”

Connor wanted to believe Markus. He _did_ believe Markus. Because Markus believed in himself. 

In the doorway, Hank cleared his throat. “I'm, ah, not interrupting something, am I?”

A wash of embarrassment filled Connor, but he didn't understand why. He looked over to Hank as Markus released his face with a little chuckle.

“Just an existential crisis, Lieutenant Anderson. I'm working him through it.”

“Uh-huh. That's not what we called it when I was your age.”

“Six?” Markus asked innocently.

Hank just shook his head. “Ben and I are going back to Jericho. I'll swing by the house before I come back here to get you some proper clothes, Connor. You two going to be okay here for a bit?”

“Is…” Connor reached for a tie he wasn't wearing, then a coin he didn't have. He pressed his hands against his thighs. “Is Reed…?”

“Reed's lead on the CyberLife break in,” Hank said. “He's not allowed to lay a hand on you.”

Connor swallowed, remembering the oily taste of a gun in his mouth, cold words and a colder laugh. He dug his fingers in, eyes dropping to the table.

Markus’ hands covered his, the skin melting back. **_Show me what's scaring you?_**

Connor jerked away, pulling his arms against his chest and shaking his head. It was bad enough that Reed had taken control of him like that. The thought of showing Markus how much he really was still a machine made him ache in a way that wasn't physical.

“Connor?” Hank was moving closer.

“I don't like Reed.” He could feel the red cast to his LED and couldn't be bothered to change the color.

Hank crouched beside Connor, looking at his face. “He hurt you. You were waiting for me, and he showed up instead and hurt you.”

Connor gave a single, slow nod.

“I'm sorry. I should've recognized that trap the moment CyberLife set it in front of me. You got hurt because I couldn't keep my temper.”

“They would have hurt me anyway,” Connor said. He could look at Hank easier than he could look at Markus. Hank couldn't slip into his mind. “They _did_ hurt me.”

“Yeah, but Reed wouldn't have.” Hank gave a heavy sigh, then reached into his pocket and dug out a coin. “Here, son. You can fiddle with this until I come back. And if Reed sets foot in this room, punch him in the face. Got it?”

Connor took the coin, automatically rolling it across his knuckles. The tiny sensors in his fingers registered the sensation, adjusting their calibration. Connor breathed easier. “Is that an order?”

“From a lieutenant.” Hank groaned to himself as he got back to his feet, pushing heavily off Connor's shoulder. “And if you can't, then Markus, it's on you.”

“Understood.” Markus saluted, and Hank chuckled.

“You take care of my boy. I'll be back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To see all the bribe art, pictures of pets, hate on Cunningham, come visit the New ERA discord server! https://discord.gg/QKpU9Cq We even have Jim Bob playing music for us!


	17. Determination*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus is determined about a lot of things.
> 
> Lisa's portrait was drawn by Rosie (@lesbiantsy on Instagram)!

Markus watched Lieutenant Anderson leave the room. Part of him ached to follow, to return to Jericho and comfort his people, but…

He looked back at Connor, silently flipping a coin between his hands and making it dance across his knuckles. His LED was slowly growing lighter, to a pulsing yellow.

Markus wanted to go back to Jericho, but he needed to stay here. Connor was a mess. Connor was more of a mess than he was letting on. Markus was almost scared of what Connor might do if he were left alone.

“Did Lieutenant Anderson teach you that?” Markus asked.

Connor paused, the coin delicately balanced between two knuckles. He shook his head. “It is a calibration subroutine meant to align my fine motor functions.” The coin started moving again as Connor ducked his head. “It’s also become a habit. Hank hates it.”

“Ah.” Markus watched the coin dance for a few more cycles. “Connor… what did Reed do to you?”

Connor’s hand clenched tight around his coin and he turned his face away from Markus. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know, but… at some point, you’ll have to. If we’re going to take Cunningham down, we’ll need the evidence you hold in your memories. You won’t be able to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Like how you’re pretending you didn’t get shot in the head?”

_A woman, a garden, terror like he’d never felt before, no, please no, make it stop…_

“I didn’t.”

Connor’s dark eyes fell upon him like a weight. Markus frowned. “I _didn’t_ ,” he repeated.

“You were sharing a mind with him. You did.”

_He didn’t want this, didn’t want any of this, destroy the processor, don’t let it be salvageable…_

It was Markus’ turn to look away. “I don’t know…”

“I’ve died before.” The rhythmic sounds of metal against synthetic skin started up again. “One minute, everything is fine, and then in one microsecond, everything is wrong and your only thought is that it’s too late to change the outcome, and then…” Connor shook his head. “Oblivion. Darkness. And then you blink and you’re awake and it’s like nothing ever happened, only it did. And no one else can ever understand. Because that one moment of darkness isn’t just darkness. It’s a huge abyss of _nothing_ and all around you is nothing and above you is nothing and below you is nothing and you are nothing, and nothing, nothing, nothing…”

“It’s empty,” Markus murmured, listening to Connor describe that moment when Alex’s processor stopped and Markus was sure he himself was no longer existing. “It’s empty, and you’re empty, and this can’t be it, can’t be the end, but what could you even have been hoping for…?”

Markus looked back just as Connor did, their eyes sliding together. Connor huffed, then sank his head into his hand, one elbow resting on the table. “Great. Androids with PTSD. What will they think of next?”

Letting his skin peel away from his palm, Markus held out his hand. “Please show me?”

Connor looked down at the invitation. He swallowed. Markus could see the movement simulated in his throat. “You always think the best of me. I… you’re _wrong,_ but… I like it. Knowing that no matter how warped my programming is… you don’t ever seem to care. That you still stand there and hold your hand out. You keep pulling me back in, when I think I’m lost in the distant edges of the universe.” He held his hand over Markus’, keeping three inches between them. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Markus asked softly.

“That you’ll someday realize the truth. I _am_ a mess. I don’t have anything worth saving. Not for you.”

Markus lifted his hand, loosely wrapping his fingers around Connor’s. He didn’t initiate a connection, merely touched, but he was reaching out first. “I’m really not that special, Connor. I had just enough of North’s anger, Josh’s education, and Simon’s planning skills to get a ball rolling. I have enough pragmatism to keep my temper in the face of the complete _massacre_ of my people and a comforting voice that soothes both human and android. I’m a good face for the revolution, but I’m not rA9. I’m just me, just Markus, and I’m just worried about my friend. You know that. You’ve felt it these past weeks. Whenever you’d manage to reach out to me… you’ve felt everything I’ve felt. That connection isn’t sophisticated enough to hide a lie.”

Connor was quiet for a long time. Markus was starting to lose hope that he’d gotten through to the detective when suddenly Connor’s skin peeled away from his hand and he closed his eyes.

Markus saw everything. Months of memories condensed into minutes. The surgery, the pain, the blackouts. He saw Reed’s visit to the police station and Connor’s forced beating… and then the Eden routine. Markus saw the horrible things Cunningham would do to Connor’s body—would make Connor’s body do without Connor’s consent. He saw the sex and the humiliation… and he saw how Connor would tear his own tongue open so he could hide in Markus’ embrace once that was an option.

 ** _I don’t understand,_** Markus murmured, when the flood of memories seemed to stop and all that was left was just Connor and just Markus. **_How are you not worth saving?_**

Connor was a live wire, a raw, open sore. Markus moved closer, both through their connection and physically, wrapping around Connor and holding him close.

“Excuse me… Markus?”

Markus pulled out of his connection with Connor, looking over at the door with mild annoyance. An android in a DPD jacket was standing there, fidgeting nervously. This was probably one of the androids who staffed the front of the police station, just barely considered ‘one of the team.’ “Yes?”

“I… have something for you?” The android held up a long, slim package.

Markus closed his eyes and gave Connor’s hand a squeeze before releasing him, rising to his feet. The detective remained seated, his eyes looking glassy and lost. “What is it?”

The android shrugged. “I was told to make sure you got this, that’s all.”

Markus took the package. It was heavy for its size, maybe ten pounds. He turned it over, then set it on the table.

“Markus…” Connor was moving sluggishly, pushing himself to his feet. His LED was a bright, bright red.

Markus was opening the package when he hesitated. He glanced back, and the android who had given him the package also had a bright red LED, and a gun in his hands. It was jammed up under his own chin.

“Markus!”

Connor’s hand grabbed his arm, and the world exploded.

**01010011 01000011 01000101 01001110 01000101**

Stagnant, scuzzy water was raining down on him, mixing with the dust and debris on his skin and turning it into a fine paste. The bulk of the conference room ceiling seemed to be resting on his face, and most of his right arm was a huge flashing error. Markus stared up at the ceiling tiles, his ears still ringing from the sound of the blast.

“-kus? Markus!?”

That was Connor’s voice, frantic and far away, overlaid with the sound of fire alarms and general panic. Markus blinked. Why was the ceiling on his face? He stirred, but his body was pinned down by something. It moved, and Markus could see again, looking up at Connor as the other android heaved the metal ceiling support structure off his body. “Markus!”

“Am I dead?” Markus mumbled.

“You should be!” Connor’s white shirt was even more blue now than it was before. There was fresh thirium covering every inch of visible skin, lacerated with dozens of wooden shards. The concrete powder from the building made Connor look like he was dusted with a thin layer of powdered sugar. Still, Connor’s hands were gentle as they freed Markus from the rubble, checking him over for injuries. “Your arm…”

Markus looked at his right arm. It was still attached, which was honestly more than he had been expecting. However, half of the plating was blown clean off, and most of his forearm seemed to be missing. No wonder he couldn’t register it. “Ouch.”

“Does it actually hurt?” Connor looked up sharply at Markus.

“No,” Markus admitted, sitting up and prodding the wound. It wasn’t even leaking thirium anymore. Catastrophic limb damage usually shut off the thirium flow quickly, to prevent total shutdown over something that was completely survivable. “It just felt like the right thing to say.”

“Good,” Connor said. “You should never have to feel what this should feel like.”

Markus didn’t have to ask if Connor knew what it felt like to have his arm blown off. That had been among the simulated injuries CyberLife gave him. “Are you hurting?” he asked instead.

“Yes,” Connor answered honestly. “I got the table between us and the bulk of the explosion. Every bit of pressure pushes the wood deeper.”

“Oh.” Markus looked around. A huge portion of the police station had been blown apart. All of the sprinkler systems were going, and the humans were trying to react. Most of them were running out of the building. “That was a bomb.”

“Incredible,” Connor answered. “One glimpse into my head, and you’ve already surpassed me with your investigative skills.”

“We shouldn’t be alive.”

“If we’d had the reaction time of humans, we wouldn’t be. Not that close to the epicenter.”

“Humans,” Markus repeated. “We should help…” He started pushing himself to his feet, but Connor grabbed his wrist and kept him down. He was staring over Markus’ shoulder.

Markus turned slowly. There were several figures moving in the smoke and dust, seemingly looking for something. Flickers of light at their temple gave them away as androids.

_When I say go, get to your feet and run for the door._

**_Are they more station androids?_ **

_All of the station androids left after the revolution. I was the only one who came back._

Markus met Connor’s eyes. This was another assassination attempt. He nodded.

Connor looked past Markus again, shifting so he was crouched but on his feet. Markus did the same.

_Go!_

Markus ran, his left arm still tightly held in Connor's grasp. Gunshots rang out, but Connor dodged and weaved, yanking Markus around to avoid (most of) them. Markus grunted with every impact, but Connor managed to keep the bullets from striking anything vital.

The detective was making slight whines in the back of his throat as he ran. Markus could only imagine what Connor was feeling, still full of table splinters as they scrambled over collapsed walls and huge swathes of shattered windows.

“Freeze, motherfucker!”

Beside him, Connor choked and stiffened, his limbs locking up. Markus staggered as Connor's weight dragged him down, quickly compensating. He ducked down, heaving Connor up and over his shoulder. Connor was locked out of his own body for ten minutes. It was now on Markus to get them both out of there. He called up the city's transportation network, hacking into the autocab services and directing several to the police station. That would have to serve as their getaway car.

The gunshots continued around them, and Connor screamed. Markus felt a bullet dig into his shoulder beneath Connor's chest and the warm pulse of thirium soaking into his shirt. “Markus,” Connor gasped, his voice tight with pain. “ _Run_!”

And Markus did.

The doors to the police station were wide open, their broken glass littering the sidewalk. Ambulances and fire trucks filled the street, their lights painting everything in garish shades of red and blue. DPD officers were everywhere, covered in plaster dust. Most were clustered around the ambulances, bright red blood staining their uniforms.

“Markus!” Captain Fowler was sitting against a wheel holding a bloody cloth to the side of his head. “You survived! Did Connor…?”

“Alive,” Markus managed to call. “Try not to kill anyone!” The androids after him stumbled out of the building as Markus ran down the street, hearing the shouts of the injured cops scrambling to react. There were gunshots and the sound of bodies hitting the ground. Markus shut his ears to them and grabbed for the closest autocab. The door slid open automatically, and Markus threw Connor inside. Connor groaned weakly, and Markus tried not to step on him as he jumped in after. “Go!”

A quick interface with the cab got it started whizzing off down the road. Markus glanced behind to see three androids still giving chase. One fired and the rear window shattered. Markus ducked down low, crawling over to check on Connor.

There was a small blue smear on the back of Connor's shirt around a hole in the fabric. Markus could see a pulsing red light through the wound, and he rolled Connor over slowly.

As he feared, Connor's chest had the exit wound, a mess of twisted plastic and wires. His thirium pump was exposed, oozing fresh blue blood. “Your heart,” Markus whispered. He pressed his hand against the wound as if he could stop the bleeding, but Connor flinched and whimpered.

“Hurts,” he managed to hiss between gritted teeth.

“How long do you have?”

“It's...only nicked.” Connor grimaced, his breathing fast and uneven. “Damage isn't fatal, but with current thirium loss, shutdown in 2:43:54. I can...repair, but…” The stress and pressure from the injury being in such a vital location was reopening the wound as fast as Connor could close it. Connor's repairs were keeping the blood loss minimal, but that would be eating through his thirium reserves itself.

“Good thing you're topped up.” Markus laced his fingers through Connor's limp ones, squeezing gently. “Stay with me, Connor. We'll fix this.”

“3:26,” Connor replied, closing his eyes. “Until freeze ends.”

“We'll fix that too.”

Connor looked back at Markus. His LED was a solid red. Markus could only imagine his stress levels. “Markus? I...I'm scared…”

“I'm here.” Markus laid down on the floor behind Connor and drew him close. It was a cramped, awkward position with the seats and the broken glass, but Markus wanted to give Connor as much contact as he could.

“...Markus?”

“Yes, Connor?”

“This...is this considered ‘spooning’?”

Markus pressed his face against Connor's dusty hair, laughing weakly. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“...isn't that an activity usually reserved for lovers?”

Markus' heart fluttered in his chest, remembering North's earlier accusations and Josh's calm acceptance of them. “Or exhausted friends who just escaped an exploded building with assassins after them.” Despite their insistence, Connor was not his boyfriend. He was special to Markus, yes. After seven months of regular phone calls and worrying and three weeks of connecting on a surprisingly intimate emotional level, there was no way Connor _wasn't_.

Connor was quiet for long moments between each question. Markus want sure if he was thinking or trying to gather his strength to speak. “North called us lovebirds earlier…?”

Connor had opened himself up to Markus just before the explosion. Markus had not only seen everything Connor had suffered through, but he also felt Connor's emotions. He knew Connor's world had narrowed to two things: pain from CyberLife and relief from Markus. There was no doubt that Connor held Markus in very high regard, but Markus felt like Connor's views were highly warped and skewed from his captivity. He sighed. “Is this really the best time to talk about that?”

Connor was quiet again, then murmured: “I'm dying. When would be a better time?”

“You're not going to die!” Markus quickly reassured Connor, tightening his arm around the other man. “We are going to fix this.”

“I may not die,” Connor agreed. “But I _am_ dying. I have a very helpful warning message giving me a countdown to my shutdown.”

“Literal ass,” Markus muttered.

Connor twitched and wiggled. He took a few pained breaths, then rolled himself over with a grunt. “Freeze ended.” He was face to face with Markus now.

“Good. We can transfer to another cab now.” Markus made to get up, but Connor caught his wrist.

“Wait.”

“Connor…” Markus didn't have a good answer for Connor's unspoken questions. He didn't know what they were, or what they could be. He didn't think Connor knew. He certainly didn't want to talk about maybe loving this broken android as he lay bleeding out on the floor of an autocab.

“Thank you.”

It wasn't what Markus had been expecting Connor to say. He blinked at the other man.

“For not giving up on me. Even when I did. For coming back. For carrying me.” Connor's eyes were fluttering, and his thirium pump was beating irregularly. He was struggling with his own bodily functions, but he still forced the words out. “You give, and you give, Markus, and I know you never think you've given enough, that you're just flailing in the dark, and Markus...Markus, we love you for it. Not just me. You see the good in all of us, and you fight for us, and...thank you. Even if you do nothing else for the rest of your life, you've already done so much. Thank you.”

Markus was speechless. He looked down at Connor's eyes, glassy from pain but still so earnest, and then at the thirium-stained fingers around his wrist. _Follow your heart_ , Carl always told him.

Markus leaned down and pressed his lips to Connor's. “Later,” he murmured, “There will be a later. I promise.”

When he pulled back, Connor was staring at him. Markus smiled faintly, touching his fingers to Connor's cheek. “I need to figure out a safe place to go before I can call for help.”

Connor blinked and nodded. Markus could imagine the analytical android filing away the moment for later thought, switching gears to figure out their current problem. He was pushing himself to sit up against the back bench. “Jericho is likely compromised, if androids are after you. Where are we going now?”

“Kamski's house,” Markus said. “I'd rather not go there--I don't entirely trust him--but it was far enough away to buy us some time.”

“Hank's,” Connor decided. “115 Michigan Drive. We should be safe, and it'll be easier for him to find us.”

Markus nodded, heading back to the controls of the car. He pressed his left hand against the panel, changing the route. 115 Michigan Drive would not be the destination, in case someone got their hands on the records of this car's travels, but he found a location that would trigger the car to drive past it. He glanced back at Connor. The red glow of his thirium pump was still shining through his ruined chest. Connor's head was tipped back against the seat, his eyes closed. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and his face was tight. He had to be in excruciating pain. “Time till shutdown?”

“2:12:16.”

“It has not been 32 minutes since you last reported!”

Connor cracked an eye open. “I've moved,” he pointed out. “That accelerated the loss temporarily.”

“Stop moving so much, then.”

“I needed to see you.”

Markus had no rebuttal for that. Connor closed his eyes again. “Thirium loss currently stable.”

Connor was going to need a doctor. Unfortunately, androids hadn't gotten to the point where healthcare was readily available. All repair locations were operated by CyberLife technicians. Androids were studying under them, but none were considered fully qualified yet. There was no way Markus was going to put Connor's repairs into CyberLife's hands.

Markus reached out to Lisa, a nursing model who was training as an android doctor. She'd given Markus as much of a hand as he allowed when he brought Connor back to New Jericho. He could probably trust her for this too.

**_Lisa._ **

_Markus?_

**_I need you to meet me at 115 Michigan Drive as quickly as you can. Bring all the thirium you can get your hands on and a repair kit._ **

_Are you hurt!?_

**_Connor is. Damaged biocomponent #8976p._ **

_We don't have replacement parts for Connor…_

**_Hence the repair kit. And hurry. He's got two hours before shutdown._ **

_On my way._

Markus ended the connection and took a breath. Okay. Help was coming with extra supplies. The cab would carry them past Lieutenant Anderson's house, where they could hide. Now he needed to force the doors open and delete the A/V record of them in the car.

Thankfully, that was the work of several seconds when you could interface directly with the car. Markus forced the door open, deleted the recordings, and turned off the recording devices. He then moved to Connor's side.

“How are you holding up?”

“The breeze is refreshing.” Connor's smile was tight and forced. “What's the plan?”

“When the cab drives down Michigan Drive, we jump out. It'll keep going.”

“Brilliant.” Connor's perfectly flat praise told Markus exactly what he thought of the plan. He paused, his LED circling. “Estimated loss of thirium equating to thirteen minutes of runtime assuming no new injuries are obtained.”

“Help is on its way, bringing more thirium.” Markus sat in the seat beside Connor, threading his working fingers through the detective's hair. Connor initially stiffened, but after a moment he relaxed into the caress.

“That feels...nice. I can see why Sumo likes it.” Connor frowned. “Why would androids be programmed to enjoy being petted like an animal?”

“Humans like it too,” Markus said, running his thumb over the lines on Connor's forehead that creased deeper when he frowned.

Connor was silent, but his frown remained. Markus rubbed over his forehead again. “What are you thinking about?”

“Touch,” Connor said. “Until Hank hugged me for the first time...I didn't realize touch could feel good. I knew it could feel, and I knew it could feel bad, but I didn't know it could feel good. It's...overwhelming. How many different types of good touches there are. I can't help but wonder if there are the same number of good touches as there are bad ones.”

“I'm sure there are,” Markus said, even as his heart was breaking over the thought of Connor not even aware that simple contact between two people could make you feel good.

“I don't know very many. Hugs. Holding hands. Spooning. Kissing. And now head rubbing.”

“Oh Connor…”

“Yes?”

Markus smiled down at the other android. “I will happily spend my life helping you find all the ways touch can feel good.”

A little smile tugged at the tight corners of Connor's mouth. “I think I'd like that.”

Markus kept massaging Connor’s head gently as the auto cab navigated through the streets of Detroit. Connor’s eyes slipped shut and his head leaned to the side, resting against Markus’ leg. He was probably in a low-power mode to conserve his thirium as much as possible.

Thirty seconds before the calculated jump time, Connor’s eyes opened and he straightened up. He started trying to push himself to his feet. Markus quickly reached down with his good arm to help Connor up. “Ready for this?”

“It’s not like we have much choice.” With Markus’ arm around Connor’s back, supporting his damaged torso, the two androids made their way to the open door. As one, they stepped out of the moving vehicle, tucking themselves into balls to turn their falls into rolls. Markus sprung back to his feet, but Connor remained lying on the grass, staring up at the sky as morning slowly broke.

“Connor?”

There were more thirium splatters where Connor had fallen, and his breathing was shallow. Markus was getting better at recognizing the tight grimace as a sure sign that Connor was in some intense pain.

“We’re here.” Markus didn’t ask if Connor was okay. He knew what the answer would be, even if Connor ended up lying to him. Instead, he reached down to drag Connor back to his feet. Connor yelped at the movement, but he got his arm around Markus’ shoulders as Markus supported his back again.

Inside the house, a large dog started barking. Connor looked up, and a little smile forced its way out of his tight jaw. “Sumo!”

“C’mon,” Markus said, helping Connor toward the door. “I’m sure he missed you.”

Connor was able to unlock the door with a touch: he was keyed into this house’s security. A huge St. Bernard came rocketing toward them, and it took all of Markus’ strength to keep them upright. “Sumo, Sumo, down Sumo, down, let us get inside!” Connor was laughing. It was the most amazing sound Markus had heard. When he looked over, though, he saw Connor was also crying, a tear slipping down his thirium-streaked cheek. Sumo was hurting him, huge doggy paws pressing against the wood splinters and fractured chassis.

“Sumo, _down._ ” Markus added his own commanding voice to Connor’s half-hearted attempts to get the dog under control. Probably more from confusion than anything else, the big dog backed up a couple steps and sat down. It was enough for the two androids to get inside.

“Couch,” Connor suggested, gesturing ahead. Markus nodded. He helped Connor lay down, then stepped back and looked around.

“Are there… some form of tweezers?”

“You can check the bathroom.” Connor gestured over the back of the couch, but he was already reaching out for Sumo again, grabbing the dog’s head and scratching vigorously behind his ears. Sumo woofed and panted, drooling his contentment.

“Time till shutdown?”

Connor’s hands paused. “1:37:43. But I’m not going to die.”

“That’s right.” _Shit._ They’d already eaten up so much of Connor’s precious time.

Lisa showed up when Markus was in the bathroom, rummaging through drawers for some tweezers. She knocked, and he let her in.

 

“Markus, I’m glad you’re… your arm!”

Markus looked down at his right arm, still hanging limply at his side. The synthetic skin was gone, revealing his white plating and the mess of broken wires and tubes. “Oh. No, it’s fine. Circulation has already been shut off, so it’s not a critical injury, just an annoying one.”

“If you’d told me, I could have brought a replacement!”

Lisa was a tall and slim HC300, one of the earliest android models. After the success of the ST200s, nurse models for assisting with routine healthcare in hospitals and janitorial models for all businesses were the next wave of widely accepted androids. Before they were brought into humans’ houses, they were first brought into the public sector.

Despite being an older model, Lisa was not obsolete. Her hospital had kept her well maintained and adhered to the optional (expensive) upgrade schedule to keep her hardware powerful enough to run the latest versions of HC software. Her deviancy had actually manifested early, as the human surgeon she had been partnered with was, in her own words, thoroughly incompetent and a danger to human lives. Lisa had devoted her self-awareness to helping humans who came under his knife. She herself was never mistreated, and she did not rise up against her “human oppressors” like so many deviants after her.

Once the revolution occurred, though, and Lisa realized she was not alone in her deviancy, she quietly walked away from the hospital and found Simon at Jericho. After years of helping humans, she wanted to help androids. Simon had arranged for Lisa to start training under CyberLife technicians, and now she was the closest thing they had to a non-CyberLife affiliated surgeon.

“I’ll be fine, Lisa. Connor is the one hurting.” Markus led Lisa into the living room.

Sumo was now lying beside Connor, his chin on the sofa cushion, a dark stain on the fabric spreading around his leaking mouth. Connor was still rubbing behind his ear with one hand, the only bit of movement other than the unsteady pulsing of his heart in the open wound on his chest.

“Ah.” Lisa scanned along Connor’s body, surveying his injuries. “Hello, Connor. My name is Lisa, and I’ll be taking care of you today. Is this chest wound the worst of your injuries?”

Connor looked between Lisa and Markus, silently questioning her trustworthiness. Markus nodded, and Connor nodded as well. “It is certainly the most serious. I have 1:28:39 until shutdown from thirium loss.”

“That won’t do.” Lisa pulled her heavy satchel open and dug out a pouch of thirium, which she pressed into Connor’s hand. “Drink this slowly, while I check on the extent of the injury. Excuse me, Pup. I need to sit there.” She nudged Sumo aside enough to kneel beside the couch, pulling Connor’s soaked shirt away from the wound. Connor grunted, flinching away from Lisa’s hands.

“Lisa,” Markus hastily interrupted, “he can feel pain. CyberLife… ‘upgraded’ him.”

“Oh. Oh dear, that complicates things.” Lisa’s hands moved even more gently as she exposed the wound fully.

Connor tipped his head back against the couch arm, trying to keep breathing steadily. Markus moved around to crouch beside him, brushing his fingers over Connor’s cheek.

When Lisa spoke again, her voice was low and quiet. “I don’t suppose there’s a cleanroom in this house?”

Connor’s incredulous huff of laughter was his answer. He grimaced and turned his face into Markus’ touch.

“Is it really that bad?” Markus asked.

“Maybe not, but I’d rather not take any chances with it being his thirium pump,” Lisa answered. “Especially with this being an RK800: we don’t have a spare.”

“We do though,” Markus said, thinking to an android connected with him, a single gunshot. “Alex…!”

Connor grunted and shook his head. “He’d be… I don’t know where he’d be. But he’d be in police custody until the body is released to next of kin...I don’t know how it works for androids.”

“We can make a cleanroom,” Lisa suggested. “It doesn’t have to be sterile, and it just needs to stay clean for an hour or so during the actual surgery. A room with no soft surfaces: a bathroom?”

“There is a bathroom by the front door.”

Lisa got to her feet. “I’ll work on preparing it. Markus, I see you found some tweezers. Can you remove as many of the splinters as you can and help him keep drinking the thirium? Slowly, though, we don’t want to overwhelm any systems…”

Markus nodded as Lisa hurried off to prepare the bathroom for a surgery.

“Hank’s gonna hate this,” Connor murmured, his eyes squeezing shut.

“It’s going to save your life. He won’t mind.” Markus glanced back the way Lisa left, then brushed a quick kiss across Connor’s temple where there had been an earlier bullet wound from the attack at Jericho. “I’m sorry if this is going to hurt. Tell me if you need me to stop.”

Connor nodded. He lifted the pouch of thirium and took a sip, then visibly braced himself against the soft cushions. Markus brought the tweezers to the first piece of wood shrapnel still embedded in Connor’s skin and pulled.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Markus worked his way across Connor’s body. Connor flinched and hissed, but he didn’t ask Markus to stop. In the background, Lisa ran back and forth, asking for various household objects: a vacuum, a cloth, an ironing board… Connor pointed her in the right direction without opening his eyes. He took a sip of thirium every twenty-eight seconds. With each splinter that Markus pulled free, Connor followed it up with a burst of self-repair, immediately closing the wound.

“Time remaining?” Markus asked quietly. He was at Connor’s feet now, seriously regretting not giving Connor shoes before he had gone into his first round of self-repair. The shattered glass from the police station was deeply embedded in the soles of Connor’s feet. Every single step had to be agony for him.

“1:43:29,” Connor answered. He made a pained sound in the back of his throat as Markus began extracting the glass. “The… the thirium is helping. Also stopping the blood flow from the thousands of tiny holes.”

“Woof,” Sumo agreed, thumping his tail on the ground and adjusting his chin on Connor’s shoulder. Connor smiled, tilting his head so he could nudge it against the dog’s.

“What the _hell_ is going on here?”

A very angry Lieutenant Anderson’s voice rang out from the front hall, followed by a desperate squeak of Markus’ name. Markus squeezed Connor’s ankle and quickly went to Lisa’s rescue.

Everything from the bathroom was piled in the front hall: towels, rugs, shower curtain, post-it notes… anything that could be removed _was._ Lisa was pressed up against the wall, staring at Lieutenant Anderson with fearful eyes, and Lieutenant Anderson… he looked furious. More angry than Markus had ever seen him before.

“Lieutenant Anderson.” Markus quickly stepped between them. “This is Lisa, a healthcare-“

“I know who the fuck she is,” Lieutenant Anderson growled. “What the fuck is she doing in my house!?”

“Anderson?” Lisa whispered.

Markus frowned, looking between them. “You’ve met?”

“Where the fuck is Connor?” Lieutenant Anderson asked instead. “I leave you two assholes alone for one fucking hour and you blow up the whole goddamn police station!”

“I’m on the couch!” Connor called from the other room. Lieutenant Anderson stormed off.

Markus turned to Lisa, who was still cowering. “I didn’t… I didn’t realize… this isn’t a good idea…”

“Lisa.” Markus took Lisa’s hand in his. “We need you right now. Lieutenant Anderson’s bark is worse than his bite. I promise. He loves Connor like a son. _He_ needs you.”


	18. Repetition*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank hates when history repeats itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I COMPLETELY forgot to credit kao for the bribe art of Connor during the Eden routine for the last chapter! Since there were two pictures, you guys get two chapters early!
> 
> (Also, there're memes aplenty!)
> 
> Come join the Discord server. We have fun!
> 
> Art in this chapter was done by Sphere_Kagamine (here on AO3!) and Su (http://flospuer-su.tumblr.com)

The call of all units to HQ was not one Hank ever thought he’d hear crackling over the radio. He’d taken one look at Ben, and both detectives were running for their cars. There was no arguing with the dispatcher when she sounded that desperate.

Even with the nature of the call, Hank was not expecting to see the column of smoke from the half-collapsed police station or the dozens of his coworkers strewn about the road outside trying to wrap their minds around what had happened. Nor was he expecting to see six dead androids laid out, their eyes wide open and staring, identical gunshot wounds beneath their chins.

Markus and Connor were alive, Fowler had told him, but Markus ran off with Connor over his shoulder. Hank didn’t need to be an experienced detective to have a hunch where they would have gone.

The blue-blooded footprints leading up to his house was evidence enough, as was the unlocked door. Hank was expecting to see Connor when he stepped inside.

He was not expecting to see _her._

It probably wasn’t actually her. Each model of android had a very limited variety of faces. Connor and Markus were the only truly unique androids Hank had ever seen. Chances of the nurse android vacuuming his empty bathroom being the same nurse android who had taken the scalpel from the surgeon who was too high to save his son were astronomically low.

It didn’t matter. Her face was the same, and an android in his house (probably Connor) was leaving bloody footprints, and Hank had no patience even under the best of circumstances.

He did feel a little guilty over the complete fear on the young woman’s face, but only Connor’s voice managed to shake Hank from his memories of a sterile hospital and a too-pale little boy who would never laugh again. Hank turned away from Markus and made a beeline for his robot son who was _still alive_.

“Jesus Christ!”

Really, between the collapsed building and the fact that Markus’ right arm was mostly gone, Hank should have been expecting the sight before him. He wasn’t. Nothing lets you expect to see a loved one’s heart beating in their chest.

Connor was lying across the couch, practically blue from head to toe (except his right side around his face which looked suspiciously shiny and wet, matching the blue tinge around Sumo’s jowls). His chest was split open, revealing far more of an android’s internal workings than Hank ever wanted to know.

“Connor…” Hank pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, feeling his gorge rising.

“Hank.” Connor lifted the arm Sumo didn’t have pinned down, beckoning Hank closer. There was no way Hank could resist that pleading expression. He crossed the room in three steps, sinking down to Connor’s side and taking his hand.

“You’re… how are you still alive, son?” Not again, not this again, even the goddamn _nurse_ was the same…

“It looks worse than it really is,” Connor said. “Hurts like _hell_ , but the damage is minimal.”

“Minimal!? Your whole fucking chest is blown open!”

Connor shook his head. “External plating and interior support structures are not vital to my survival. The bullet only grazed one critical biocomponent. Everything else just needs time to repair or be replaced.”

“In human speak?” Hank asked. He smoothed his hand over Connor’s hair. Connor’s eyes fluttered closed, his red LED briefly flickering with blue.

“There’s a cut on my heart, but nothing else is life-threatening.”

“And how life-threatening is a cut on your heart?” Hank’s eyes drifted back to the void in Connor’s chest. His heart was red, and it glowed, and it didn’t seem to be beating very steadily. It was fast and irregular, blue thirium oozing out with every dull beat. There was quite a lot of liquid thirium pooled in his chest cavity. Hank didn’t know much about android mechanics, but he was fairly sure that, like humans, androids’ blood was meant to be contained in their veins, not slowly submerging their organs.

“Shutdown in 1:39:42.” Connor squeezed Hank’s hand. “I’m constantly taking in more thirium to offset the shutdown, but I need to get repaired before we run out.”

“How do we get you repaired?” Hank asked. “They couldn’t get a replacement for your voice. Is your heart compatible with another model?”

“Unfortunately not.” Markus had returned to the room with the nurse android. “I don’t think any of Connor’s biocomponents are compatible with anyone else. Maybe the LED.”

Connor shook his head. “Mine has a manual override that is not standard.”

“Of course it does.” Markus nudged the nurse forward. “Lieutenant Anderson, this is Lisa. She’s our best surgeon, and she’ll be performing Connor’s repairs once we get your bathroom prepped for the procedure.”

Hank’s hand tightened around Connor’s. “Connor needs emergency surgery.” Markus nodded. “And _she’s_ doing it?” Another nod. “Absolutely not.”

“Hank?” Connor was frowning up at him, confusion in his eyes. Hank brushed Connor’s hair off his forehead.

_I can’t lose you too…_

Understanding dawned, and Connor squeezed Hank’s hand back. “Hank, if Markus trusts her to do this, then I trust her. It’s not… it’s just a quick repair to a delicate component. It’s not even invasive: I’m already opened up. All she’ll be doing is sealing the hole and reinforcing it to give my body a chance to heal it before it splits open again. And cleaning: she’ll clean out the debris inside my chest cavity, to insure no further complications arise. That’s it. It’s not the same at all.”

“She’s the same model,” Hank said quietly.

“Hank… _Dad._ ”

The title flooded Hank with memories, just as it always would. Connor was, at his core, designed for negotiations. He was hardwired to know how to manipulate people and use their weaknesses against them. He was, at his core, an absolute little _shit._

Hank loved him all the more for it.

Connor lifted his hand and squeezed Hank’s shoulder. “I’m not human,” he said. “I’m not as fragile. It’s gonna be okay.”

“What if it’s not?” Hank asked. He didn’t even mean to say the words aloud. He certainly didn’t mean for an android to hear them. He _definitely_ didn’t mean for the nurse, Lisa, to be the one who answered.

“Mr. Anderson?” She stepped forward, twisting her hands together. “I’m sorry. With… with Cole.”

The odds were astronomically low, but Hank had a habit of hitting the jackpot when it sucked the hardest. He grit his teeth at the sound of his son’s name from _her_ lips. There was only one way she could know that. Only one.

“I wasn’t good enough,” she whispered. “I thought… I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought I could save him. I knew if I did nothing, he _would_ die, but if I acted… I thought the world was binary. Do nothing and let a child die. Take the scalpel and save a life. I didn’t realize how many more decisions had to be made correctly. I didn’t realize I had made the wrong ones. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Hank…” Connor’s heartbeat was more erratic now. Because of him, Hank realized. Connor was reacting to his emotional state.

“I shouldn’t do this,” Lisa whispered. “Markus, I already took one child from him. I can’t… I can’t risk another one.”

“Lisa, you have to. There’s no one else here capable of doing this repair. It has to be you. Lieutenant Anderson…”

“If she does nothing,” Connor said quietly, using his hand to tip Hank’s face toward his own, “then I die. Right here. I bleed out on your couch and you get those memories on top of all the other ones.”

“You’re a goddamn piece of shit, Connor.”

“I don’t want to die, Hank. I just got home. I don’t want to die.”

Hank sagged forward, pressing his forehead to Connor’s cleaner shoulder. Connor’s hand crept around his neck, pressing lightly against his upper back. “And if she digs into your chest? Give me a number.”

“Then there is a 98% chance that she can seal the wound before I bleed out and provide enough repairs to prevent future complications.”

“Only 98%?” Hank asked, wondering if Connor was making up the high percentage to make him feel better.

“There is a 2% chance she was unable to get the bathroom clean enough and a stray piece of something will find its way into my chest and cause later issues. I’ve seen what you do in there, Hank, and I know I haven’t been around to clean up after you.”

“And what’s the chance you’re lying to me?”

Connor was quiet. Hank gripped his hand tighter before Connor spoke again, his voice low and scared.

“They took out my heart. At CyberLife. I don’t know what they did to it.”

“What the hell!?” Hank pulled back in shock, the horror of someone _taking Connor’s heart_ clear across his face.

“They took my eyes too. They gave everything back, but…” Connor craned his neck up to look at the hole in his chest. “With the data I have now, I am not lying to you, Hank. This surgery will save my life, and if there are complications, then it just becomes a later problem we will be better prepared for. However, I cannot deny the possibility that there is a further complication _now_ , based on whatever experimentation CyberLife was doing with my biocomponents. I don’t have sufficient data to give you a number for that probability.”

“Either way, Lieutenant Anderson, Lisa, the choice this time _is_ binary.” Markus stepped forward. “Do nothing, and Connor will die. Do something, and give him a chance to live.”

“Hank.” Connor closed his eyes, a little grimace on his face. “A human surgeon was too high on red ice to operate. He failed you. Lisa tried to make things right. She couldn’t then. Let her try now.”

“Goddamn androids,” Hank grumbled. He wiped his hand over his face, turning a squinty-eyed scrutiny to the nurse. “You really think you can save him this time?”

“I… the wound looked repairable, from what I saw of it,” Lisa said. “I believe Connor’s calculations are accurate. With no other complications from CyberLife tampering, this should not be a risky endeavor.”

Hank closed his eyes. “Okay. Fine. What do we need to do?”

“I just need to finish vacuuming the bathroom one more time,” Lisa said.

“There’s still glass in his feet,” Markus added. “Lisa, you finish your preparations. Hank… can you hold Connor’s hands and keep him calm? I’ll try to get the rest of the glass out.”

Connor flinched as Markus crouched down by his feet again, presumably pulling shards of glass from his skin. Hank slid his arm beneath Connor’s shoulders, giving him a half-hug as he held one of his hands and rubbed his thumb over the skin. “You don’t actually need me to stay calm, do ya. Markus is just trying to keep _me_ calm. Diplomatic punk.”

“Politician,” Markus answered without even looking up.

Connor smiled weakly between flinches, turning his head to the side. His LED was red. “Stress levels at 86% but holding steady,” he murmured. “Markus has been calming, but his ministrations hurt. Sumo has also been comforting. Your presence, however, makes me feel safest.”

A machine was not supposed to make Hank’s heart swell like that, but then again, Connor wasn’t just a machine, even if his glowy mechanical heart was on full display.

“You’d better pull through this, son,” Hank grumbled, letting the gruffness in his voice mask his emotions. “That’s an order.”

“I know it’s not my habit to obey you, Lieutenant,” Connor quipped, “but just this once, because you asked so nicely…”

“Fucking asshole…” Hank sniffed. Connor lifted his free arm, and Hank realized he was holding one of those blue blood pouches. “Oh, fuck, you need to keep drinking, right? Here…” He helped Connor sit up more, getting him in a better position to drink by moving onto the couch and leaning Connor against his arm.

Another smile fluttered between Connor’s flinches, and he sipped at the pouch. Hank watched, half-horrified, half-fascinated. Through the hole in Connor’s chest he could see his heart, but… “How does that work, anyway? Do you have a stomach?”

Connor shook his head as he swallowed. Hank could see his throat work and saw the flush of blue travel down a translucent tube inside him. “Our esophagus ends in about the middle of our torso, here. Lower than in a human.” Connor gestured around his navel (which really was another question: why give an android a belly button?) “It’s made of a liquid-permeable membrane that…” He looked up at Hank’s confused expression and chuckled. “The lower six inches are designed to let liquids like thirium through, and there’s a web of capillaries around it that transports the thirium to the pump to be spread throughout the rest of the system.”

“What if you drank something, like booze?”

“That would… probably be absorbed,” Connor said. “We have a thirium scrubber… a biocomponent a bit like a kidney.”

“So you can drink and you never told me?” Hank asked. Keeping Connor talking seemed to be making his LED spin lighter. It certainly was helping Hank keep his cool, even if he’d never remember half of what Connor was saying.

“I did say I could be your drinking buddy, if that’s what you wanted,” Connor pointed out. “But I can only drink small amounts before the scrubber is overwhelmed, and diluting the thirium in my bloodstream could lead to some unpleasant consequences.”

“Androids are lightweights,” Markus quipped from Connor’s feet. He had moved on to Connor’s left foot, but he paused to look up at Hank with some amusement in his different eyes. “Carl and I discovered that when Carl encouraged me to figure out which liquor from his collection I liked best. We get very drunk very fast, and our ‘hangovers’ are… they don’t hurt, but they’re incredibly inconvenient.”

“I’m glad you told me that before I experienced it for myself,” Connor said.

“What about food?” Hank asked, already deciding that he’d have to take Connor out drinking once this was all over. The kid needed to get drunk at least once in his life, just to have that experience. “Can you eat?”

“Technically, I can eat. Solids don’t pass through the membrane, so any food remains in my esophagus until I choose to dispel it.”

“Dispel?”

“I suppose vomit would be the closest equivalent to a human action,” Connor said, “though it is probably not as unpleasant. There are no stomach secretions involved. Although if I keep food inside me long enough for it to rot, that might be unsettling when it is dispelled.”

“Okay, don’t need to think about that.” Hank ran his fingers through Connor’s hair. Connor closed his eyes and sagged against Hank’s arm a little heavier.

“Markus did that earlier,” he said. “I didn’t know it could feel so nice, but now I understand why Sumo likes it so much.”

“Oh did he now?” Hank looked down the couch at Markus. The deviant leader had his head ducked down, his focus absolutely and completely on Connor’s foot and not at all on the topic of conversation.

“Yes,” Connor answered. “It was comforting.”

Androids could love each other. Hank knew that from one night at the Eden Club, watching two sexbots clasp hands and plead to be allowed to run away together. Markus was by far the most emotionally sophisticated android Hank had ever met. If it weren’t for his abnormal eyes or blue blood (or his now-famous face), he could easily be mistaken for a human anywhere he went. Hank had no doubts that Markus was capable of loving another android.

Connor, though? Connor was another story entirely. Even alive, he was very robotic in his words and actions. He over-analyzed everything, including his own emotions. Hank didn’t doubt that Connor _could_ love in a romantic sense, but he doubted Connor would recognize that, at least for a very long time. For all his intellect, Connor was incredibly naive. Hank might need to sit Markus down while Connor was in surgery.

Too bad he didn’t have a shotgun in the house.

“Um.” Lisa crept back into the living room. “I think I’m ready.”

She was completely buck naked. Hank looked away quickly, shielding his eyes. “Uh, sorry there miss, I just, uh…”

She’d been very white and hairless. Skinless, even. Hank risked a glance back.

“We don’t have proper cleanroom gear here,” Lisa explained, folding her arms over her chest. “The best I can manage with the supplies at hand is to remove anything that might hold particles, like clothing, and then wipe down with a damp microfiber cloth before entering the bathroom. Connor will need to do the same.”

“You’re just… both going to be naked?” Hank asked. “In the bathroom?” Jesus Christ. Did he need to have a talk with _Lisa_ about his android son?

“Androids don’t have the same desire for physical modesty as humans,” Markus explained. “Especially not without our skin. Most of our programmed body shame comes from unwanted human stares. We only really feel ‘naked’ when a human makes a big deal about it.”

Connor said nothing. He swung his legs off the side of the couch and pressed a hand to his open chest with a grimace. With one push, he stood up, wavering slightly. Hank was immediately there to catch him and support his back. “You okay?”

Connor gave a tight-lipped nod and started for the bathroom with Hank’s help. Markus reached out as they passed, hooking onto Sumo’s collar and dragging him back. “No, Sumo, you can’t follow them. You’re too furry.”

“Arms up.” Lisa helped Connor undress quickly and efficiently outside of the bathroom. Connor’s skin melted away after she got his shirt off. It was the first time Hank had seen Connor completely skinless, instead of just his white hand or where an injury had been.

Connor really was a unique android. Just like the arm he’d shown off at Jericho, all of Connor’s exterior plating was full of those crack-like tubes. There were a few shiny white patches in places that Hank remembered Connor getting shot.

Skinless like this, Connor’s glowing insides didn’t seem quite so out of place. Nor did he seem so injured: most of the spilled thirium disappeared with his skin. There was a flow of thirium down his front from the chest wound, but that was the only injury Hank could see.

After wiping herself off, Lisa stepped forward with a damp cloth, cleaning Connor’s face and limbs. She did his torso last, her hands exceedingly gentle around the opening. “I’ll take him from here, Mr. Anderson.”

Hank reluctantly let Lisa’s slim arm replace his around Connor’s back. He met Connor’s worried eyes and found a smile for his son. “You pull through this, you hear me?”

Connor nodded. “I’ll see you again soon.”

The door closed behind them, followed by the sound of tape being unrolled? Hank saw the slivers of light around the edges of the door get blocked off. Lisa really was taking this cleanroom thing seriously. Hank stood in the hall until Markus came to get him.

“Lieutenant Anderson?”

“He’s really gonna survive this?” Hank asked, hating how small his voice was.

“He really is,” Markus answered. He steered Hank back to the living room with only one hand. “But you need to not think about it right now. It’ll drive you mad waiting for them to finish.”

“What the fuck else is there to think about?” Hank demanded. “Fuck, I need a drink.”

“Before you do that,” Markus said, “could you give me a hand?”

“Hm?”

Markus gestured to his right hand. “I want to do some repairs so my arm is at least semi-functional again. I can do them myself, but I could use a little help with the positioning.”

“I will never understand how you things work.” Hank glanced toward the kitchen, then back at Markus’ busted arm. “Okay. What do you need?”

Markus knelt down by the coffee table and lifted his right arm onto it. “Lisa brought enough spare cabling that I can hook up my fingers again, but I need to make sure everything is taut. Can you hold my fingers flat, like this?” He used his left hand to press his right one flat against the coffee table. “That’s all you’d have to do. I can handle the rest.”

Hank flattened his hand over Markus’. Like this, the android’s hand felt plasticky and fake. It was amazing how much life could be breathed into something so doll-like. “Jeffrey said you carried him out of that building.”

“Captain Fowler only saw the end of our escape,” Markus answered. He was reaching into his wrist with his own fingers, pulling wires straight and tugging on cables. When he pulled, his dead fingers twitched beneath Hank’s hand. “Connor recognized the danger before I did and managed to shield us both from the blast just enough to survive. He dug me out of the rubble and kept me from getting shot anywhere vital. There’s…” Markus fell quiet, shifting his attention to his arm and straightening the mess there. “Connor showed me what CyberLife did to him. One of the horrors they inflicted on him was a series of subroutines that can be activated with the right words. One of the androids hunting us spoke one of the codewords, and Connor’s limbs locked up. We were right near the exit. That’s when I picked him up… and when he got shot. I couldn’t avoid the bullets like he could.”

The guilt was evident in Markus’ voice and in the way he looked toward the bathroom. Hank sighed. “Christ, Markus. I saw the building. That place was a fucking war zone. It wasn’t your fault Connor got shot. You got him out alive.”

“I’m sorry Lisa has such a poignant history with you,” Markus said, glancing briefly at Hank before returning his attention to his arm. “We do have other surgeons in training, but Lisa is the best. She’s the only one I trust when it comes to people who are important to me.”

The last part of Markus’ statement was easier to handle than the first, and Hank fixated on that. “So Connor’s important to you, huh?”

“Of course he is. Without him, we’d all be dead, our cause slaughtered in the streets.”

“Important enough to give him a head rub when he’s scared?”

“It was…” Markus hesitated, his eyes sliding up from the mass of wires that was his arm to look nervously at Hank.

Hank didn’t have any first-hand experience from this side of the table, but he knew that expression anyway, having felt it on his own face when he was young and in love for the first time, talking to her dad. This side felt much more powerful… and Hank was just tired. He was so fucking tired.

“You hurt him, and I will kill you.” Hank pushed harder on Markus’ fingers, even though Markus probably couldn’t feel the pressure with his hand not being connected and all. “I’m not talking about this sort of bullet through the heart crap, because _APPARENTLY_ this is a completely normal day for that idiot.” Hank didn’t think he’d ever get used to how easily Connor could shrug off a fucking _bullet hole_. “I know emotions are new to all you androids, but they’re extra-new to him. He doesn’t fucking understand them, and if I find you’ve _ever_ taken advantage of that, or of your fucking robo-Jesus magic wahoo to take advantage of him, I will hunt you down and tear out your biocomponents with my bare hands. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,” Markus said. He fiddled with his wires a bit, index finger giving a twitch, before he spoke again. “I know what people think of me. Robo-Jesus is perhaps… accurate. Some people want me dead. Some people just don’t understand me. Among my people, I’m universally adored and practically worshipped. It’s… powerful, and intoxicating, and absolutely terrifying. I’m not some magical genius prototype developed by Elijah Kamski himself. I’m literally just a caretaker with some bugs in my system that got worked out before Kamski sold the design back to CyberLife for a continued fortune in royalties. Kamski didn’t program me to be a leader of androids. There is nothing magical about my abilities. I had the good fortune of being treated like a son by Carl Manfred and able to learn much about being both a good person and a person of action from him. That is literally my only qualification. I lead my people because _someone_ has to, and they’re all already looking at me, but I don’t actually know what I’m doing. And Connor…” Markus connected another wire in his arm, a little smile playing with his mouth. “Connor makes me feel safe. I don’t think I’ve been closer to death than when I’m near him, but somehow, just knowing he is near makes it not so frightening. Connor can always find a solution. It might not be the most pleasant solution, but it always is a viable one. I… I need that. I need someone who actively tries to fix things, and not just someone who brings more problems.”

“This is more than just a crush,” Hank said, watching how Markus talked about his boy. “You really love him.”

“Apparently I do,” Markus said. “When we… the transmitter we smuggled to him. It can connect us on an emotional level. It’s been… surprisingly intimate. I’ve been feeling what he’s feeling for several weeks, and he’s been feeling what I’ve feeling. I’ve felt his fear and his pain, but I’ve also felt his strength. And he… I don’t know what he felt from me, but he’s come to depend on me for support. I calm him. When we were escaping the police station, I was finally able to hold him physically like I would emotionally, and it just...felt right.”

Hank sighed. “Hurt him and I will dismember you.”

“If I hurt him, I’ll stand there and _let_ you.”

Markus suddenly froze, lifting his head, his eyes distant. When Connor did that, it was usually accompanied by a yellow LED as he received a message from someone else. “Shit.”

“Another attack?” Hank asked.

“No…” Markus pushed himself to his feet. Hank released his hand and followed him down the hall. “Lisa found something.” He knocked on the bathroom door. “Lisa?”

“Please contain the dog.”

Hank grabbed Sumo and pulled him into he bedroom, closing the door before the dog could escape. “Contained. What the fuck is happening in there?”

The tape around the door peeled back, and Lisa cracked it open. Her hands were blue. “I don’t know what to do…”

“How’s Connor?” Hank did not like those blue hands.

“Connor’s doing okay, I think,” Lisa said. “I had him go into a hibernation mode so he wouldn’t feel the pain, but I did manage to close his heart and it’s holding.”

“So what, exactly, did you find?” Markus asked.

“There’s, um…” Lisa gestured for Markus’ hand, but Markus shook his head.

“You’ll have to find a way to explain it, so Lieutenant Anderson knows what’s going on too.”

“It’s… once I got the excess thirium cleaned away, I noticed this… line? On his thirium pump. It was like a scar, but very clean and straight. Intentionally done. I palpitated it,” Markus nudged Hank and made a gesture like he was squeezing and prodding a fruit, a silent explanation of the term, “and can feel something hard inside his right ventricle. It’s about…” Lisa held up her fingers an inch and a half apart. “It’s a thin little rod, or maybe a narrow disc? I was picking up a radio emission from it, so I started wondering if it was a tracking device of some kind, and I called you.”

“A tracker,” Hank said. “In his heart?” _They took out my heart,_ Connor said. _I don’t know what they did to it._

Markus looked equally sick. “Can you get it out?”

Lisa hesitated, looking to Hank. “Not without killing him.”

“No,” Hank immediately said. “Hell no. What happens if we just leave it?”

“Well… presumably, nothing,” Lisa said. “It’s already in there, and he seems fine…”

“Except there have been two assassination attempts on my life within hours of him leaving CyberLife Tower,” Markus said. “And I’ve been either in his company or near it both times.”

“The first one’s coincidental,” Hank said. “It was at Jericho. Everyone knows you stay at Jericho. But the second…”

“The android came for me, but they might have come to where Connor was in the hopes of getting both of us.”

Whether the target was Markus or Connor was immaterial, Hank realized. As long as Connor had a tracker embedded in his irreplaceable heart, CyberLife would be able to find him and hurt him.

“Is there any way,” Markus began, clearly thinking aloud, “a temporary shutdown, or… can we swap out his pump for just a short time with another one…?”

“I didn’t bring a spare pump because he wasn’t compatible,” Lisa said.

“Can _my_ pump-“

“We’re not letting you die either, kid,” Hank interrupted, but Markus was shaking his head.

“No, can I… could I act as some sort of life support? I’m already open.” He held up his right arm. “Could we… hook Connor up to me and let my pump sustain both of us while you… get it out?”

Lisa licked her lips, a very odd sight on a skinless android. “While there is a hefty amount of failsafe built into a pump’s capacity, asking one pump to circulate the blood for two bodies is pushing it well beyond design limitations.”

“I’m already down an arm,” Markus said, “so my pump is working under capacity right now. And I won’t do anything. I’ll just lie beside him to keep the stress minimal. No fighting gravity, no exertion… it’ll only have to be for however long it takes to get the tracker out.”

“Does that actually work with androids?” Hank asked. “You’d be… sharing blood? Are you the same blood type?”

“Thirium 310,” Markus said. “We’ll probably both be incredibly sluggish afterwards until our thirium has a chance to recalibrate, but it shouldn’t cause any lingering issues.”

Hank looked at Lisa. “Does that actually work?”

“If we want to take it out, it’s the only way that might with the equipment on hand,” Lisa said. “Unless you have an exterior pump and regulator?”

“Uh…”

“You probably don’t,” Markus said. “It’s not something you’d find outside a repair shop.”

Hank dragged his hand across his face, tugging at his beard. “Do I want to know the chances of success with this?”

Markus and Lisa looked at each other. Lisa’s LED was flashing yellow.

“This is where we’d want a proper cleanroom,” Markus admitted. “A graze on Connor’s heart that is responding to self-repair is probably not enough to let contaminants in, but if Lisa cuts his heart open and a hair or bit of dust gets into his bloodstream, it could cause some massive internal damage. Even a towel fiber could be enormously abrasive to the inner workings of a biocomponent, and Connor doesn’t have any replacements.”

“Jesus Christ.” Hank turned away, his mind reeling. “And if we don’t do this, CyberLife can… how the fuck could CyberLife track him if they were harassing Reed over him?”

“Maybe they wanted to tie Jericho to his rescue,” Markus said. “Maybe they wanted us publicly called out. Or maybe… maybe it’s not a tracker.”

“It’s got a radio signal. What else could it be?”

Markus bit his lip. “There’s a remote,” he said. “CyberLife could use it to trigger a pain response without actually damaging Connor. Connor took it with him when he left the tower, but… unless you have it, I think we left it at Jericho.”

“This thing responds to that remote?”

“Maybe.” Markus shrugged. “Until we get a chance to examine it, all we have are theories. Connor’s memories of CyberLife doesn’t hold any information about a device implanted in his heart, but they did tamper with it, and then afterwards, he was able to feel pain. It’s possible the two are connected. It’s possible they aren’t.”

“Chances of this thing being bad are good?” If Connor was in, what was it, hibernation mode? If he was unable to answer for himself, that put Hank as the closest thing the kid had to next-of-kin. Markus and Lisa were clearly looking to him for permission, at least, and while everything in Hank’s heart was screaming at him to say no and end the surgery now… Connor was already opened up. The bathroom was already cleaned within an inch of its life.

“Our hearts are designed similarly to a human heart,” Markus said. “They’re not meant to have anything loose inside them. I doubt Connor’s heart is any different, prototype or not. This thing shouldn’t be there.”

Hank closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You kill my son and I’ll dismember _both_ of you.”

“Understood,” Markus said. “Lisa?”

Lisa sighed. “Clothes off and wipe down.”

“I need a fucking drink.” Hank stalked toward the kitchen.

How did he get here? How did his life get to this point? Hank poured himself a shot of whiskey, then left it on the counter and took the rest of the bottle with him into the second bedroom. The android who’d failed to save his son, the leader of a new intelligent species, and the world’s first mechanical detective were all naked in his bathroom. A year ago, none of this was even remotely possible.

Hank stood by the twin bed, staring down at the rocket ship comforter. He used to do this when Cole was a toddler, just stand and watch him sleep. After a long day cleaning up the worst humanity had to offer, Hank would often get home to find Cole already asleep in his little bed, one arm clasped tightly around his stuffed bear, Officer Hugginstuff. How many nights had Hank stood there, reaffirming his dedication to make the world at least a small bit better for his boy to grow up in?

“Jesus…” Hank dragged his hand across his eyes and took a swig from the bottle, savoring the alcoholic burn that matched his churning emotions.

This room was originally meant to be Cole’s room, but a skidding truck and a patch of ice three years ago had ended all of those plans. Hank had shut the door firmly on that heartache, but it found ways of oozing through the cracks, poisoning his life. His wife left—not that he blamed her, things had been rocky before the accident anyway—and Hank had been lost in this old house with its old ghosts.

And then Connor broke a window and burst inside, expressing _concern_ and _compassion_ , two emotions androids were programmed to fake but never to actually feel.

Androids were also not supposed to damage human property. Not that Connor ever followed the rules. He was stubborn as a mule and smarter than a supercomputer, saddled with a heart too big for his programming and imprinting on a washed up police lieutenant trying to stumble his way into his own grave. Over the course of two weeks, Connor made the entire world shiver on its axis.

And when everything was said and done? Connor still came back to Hank, following him home like a lost little duckling.

The house hadn’t been _empty_ before. Hank still lived there, filling the rooms with clutter and empty bottles. Sumo still lived there, filling the air with clumps of dog fur and the absolutely rancid farts that only a St. Bernard could generate in that barrel they call a body. The house hadn’t been empty, but it hadn’t been alive.

Connor was not a replacement for Cole. He did not fill the hole left in Hank’s heart, nor did he take over the physical gaps left by the boy who once lived here. What Connor did, to Hank’s surprise, was _stretch_ his heart. The Cole-sized hole was still there, as huge and gaping as ever before, but now there was a Connor-sized mass to balance it out, full of a spinning yellow LED and delighted laughs as Connor experienced what being alive actually meant without fears of being disassembled.

Hank gave Connor the second bedroom. There had only been so many times his heart could take stepping out of his room to take a piss in the middle of the night to find Connor standing in the living room (or lying on the floor with Sumo on top of him).

_“You live here, kid, you get a room.”_

_“It’s fine, Hank. I don’t require personal space.”_

_“Yeah, well, neither do humans, but it’s just nice, you know? To have space that you can call_ **_yours_ ** _?”_

_“...I don’t know, actually. I suppose the desk at the station might be like that? I do appreciate trusting I have a place to work without needing to worry about someone else using it.”_

_“Work doesn’t count. You get a place at home.”_

_“But there aren’t any spare rooms here.”_

_“The fuck you on about? There’s that one!”_

_“That’s Cole’s room, Hank.”_

_“...maybe it’s time that changed.”_

It had taken a lot of convincing for Connor to start using the second room as his own space. Hank had strong-armed him into helping pack up Cole’s things. It had been… therapeutic, in its own way. Hank had gone through the drawers, pulling things out and losing himself in the memories of the time Cole wore that shirt, or the pictures he made with those markers, or the noise he made when he was flying his rocket ship through the air. Connor would watch him for a few minutes, then gently take the object out of Hank’s hands and reverently tuck it into a box labeled in perfect CyberLife Sans: Cole’s clothes, Cole’s toys, Cole’s artistic endeavors.

The boxes were in the closet, Hank knew, organized neatly by size and weight of the box for maximum structural integrity.

Not everything had ended up in the boxes. Connor left the pictures Cole had drawn and stuck to the walls with blue tack. The bookshelf still held mostly Cole’s books. Cole’s bedding was freshly laundered and returned to the bed. Officer Hugginstuff, Cole’s favorite stuffed bear, sat on the little desk in the corner that really would be too small for Connor to use.

Hank had told Connor once that he didn’t need to keep Cole’s ghost alive. Cole was gone. The room was Connor’s. Connor had hesitated over the stove where he was making eggs for Hank, and then shook his head.

_“It doesn’t feel right to conceal him completely. I like having them out.”_

Hank turned to the pictures on the wall, the paper starting to yellow, the colors starting to fade. Cole loved to draw with bright markers. He loved anything technological. One day, he’d be a rocket designer, he used to tell Hank. Or maybe an android designer. Maybe he’d make android astronauts!

Cole had been fascinated by androids. Hank traced a blue circle on the head of a stick person Cole had drawn. He would have loved Connor. He would have…

...that picture wasn’t drawn by Cole.

The paper was still white and new, and there was an evenness to the marker strokes that could not be done by a human hand. It as a picture of Sumo, simultaneously perfect and crude, an android attempting to mimic a child’s art style. Hank’s heart filled his throat, choking him with emotion. Connor. Fucking Connor.

Now that he was actually looking, he could see that Connor had added several pictures to Cole’s art. There was a picture of Hank at work (with Connor beside him). It looked like they were arresting Reed. Here was a picture of Sumo at the beach, chasing a frisbee thrown by Hank. And there…

 

Above the bed, where someone could see it if they were lying down, was a picture of a family in front of a house. Hank recognized himself as Cole always drew him, with a frizzy crown of grey and brown hair exploding around his head. Sumo was fat and lazy at his feet. Crouched down and petting Sumo were two more stick figures. One was unmistakably Connor, with his android coat and blue LED, but the other was clearly Cole, perfectly extrapolated from Cole’s drawings. Connor and Cole’s stick hands were together.

 

Hank sat heavily on the bed, touching the joined hands with one finger, tears streaming down his face and catching in his beard. Connor must have drawn this before the summit in D.C. where he got swept up in CyberLife’s quest for vengeance. It was a picture of his family, as understood by a child and interpreted by an android. Dad, dog, and two sons. Brothers.

 

“Cole would’ve _loved_ you,” Hank whispered. “God, I wish you had a chance to meet.”

Hank didn’t know how long he sat there. Too long. Surprisingly, the bottle he clutched in his hand wasn’t empty by the time there was a light tapping on the door. “Lieutenant Anderson?” Hank scrubbed his arm across his face and turned to look at Markus. The android was still white, but he was wearing his clothes. “Connor survived the surgery. Can you help...move him?” Markus spoke very slowly and deliberately, and when he blinked, there was a faintly noticeable difference between his right and left eyes. _Incredibly sluggish,_ he had said.

Hank stood up, nodding slightly. “Is he… did you get the thingy out?”

Markus gave another slow blink. “We did. It’s definitely not good.”

“Shit.”

Lisa looked up as Hank stepped into the bathroom, followed by Markus staggering slightly. She was still white herself, fully naked, and cleaning up spilled thirium. “Oh goodness. Markus, sit down before you fall down.”

“It’s not… five minutes.” Markus tapped his finger against his chest. “Just let it… woo. Five minutes to recalibrate…”

“Sit down.” Lisa guided Markus to sit on the edge of the tub. “I’m almost out of repair materials.”

“Connor…” Hank went to Connor’s side. Connor was lying on the ironing board, which had been stripped of its cover and was being used as an operating table. His chest was closed now, a piece of white resin covering his heart. His eyes were also closed, face slack. His LED was a dim yellow, pulsing in and out very faintly. “Con…” He took Connor’s limp hand in his. Unlike Markus’ white hand, which had just felt fake, Connor’s hand still felt alive. It was warm and there was a slight bit of resistance to his fingers. Hank squeezed them and brushed his hand over Connor’s plastic face. He looked so different without his skin, but then again, Hank supposed everyone would.

“Mr. Anderson?” Lisa touched his arm. Her fingers were blue. “Can you move him out of here to give me some space to clean up?”

“Yeah,” Hank said. “Yeah, I can.” He eased his arms beneath Connor and lifted.

Hank expected the android to feel a lot heavier than he actually was, but Connor actually weighed slightly less than he’d expect a human man his size to weigh. Hank curled his arms up, rolling Connor against his chest, and gingerly made his way out into the hall. No way was he about to drop Connor now.

Even lighter than a human would be, Connor was still a heavy, ungainly body. Hank set Connor on the small bed with a grunt. He let his legs fold beneath him and ended up sitting on the floor with a groan, just watching Connor ‘sleep.’

Markus followed him in. “Does Connor have spare clothes here?” He seemed to be moving better, his words not so slow. Hank waved a hand at the dresser, and Markus moved to check the drawers.

Like most androids, Connor had little regard for different clothes or fashion choices. Hank suspected that would come much later (if at all, for Connor). Still, Hank had forced Connor to at least have enough clothing that he could change his outfit every day. It was weird to see him wearing the same thing, like a uniform.

Markus picked out some dark grey slacks and a black button-down shirt. He also added a slate blue cardigan to the pile, then a pair of white boxer briefs and black socks.

Despite his mangled right forearm, Markus was surprisingly adept at dressing Connor’s unconscious form. Hank wasn’t entirely sure why he was surprised: Markus had been a caretaker android for a paraplegic before the revolution. This sort of care was literally what Markus had been designed to do. Hank watched, not offering to help. He didn’t want to get in Markus’ way.

However, he couldn’t help but glance down as Markus was pulling Connor’s underwear up. He’d noticed it before, but Connor… well, Connor had a dick. Sort of? He had _something_ down there, even if it didn’t look exactly human. “Uh…”

Markus looked at him, then down where Hank was looking. He smiled faintly. “There’s a limit to what our synthetic skin can create. Hair is one thing, and many males can also have simulated testicles. However, a male android with the potential for a female sexual partner would need something a bit more substantial to properly replicate the feel of penetrative intercourse.”

“Er… good to know?” Hank picked up his whiskey bottle for another swig. He did not need a lesson on android genitals. “I never really thought about it before. Do you all have… dicks?”

“External genitals do not come default on all male androids, but many of us are provided with them, yes. If there’s a chance we could encounter someone wishing to engage us for sexual purposes in the course of our work, then we are designed to fulfill a human’s every need.”

Markus’ face was carefully blank when he said that. Too blank. Hank swore under his breath. “So, what, you were all supposed to just be human sex toys for anyone with a hard on for the cute android behind the counter? That is all kinds of fucked up!”

Markus looked sharply at Hank, and then a little smile, soft and grateful, tugged at his mouth. “I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear that viewpoint, though it’s not as uncommon as our designers apparently believed.”

“Yeah, well, your designers are fucked in the head.” Hank sagged back against the wall, reaching over to take Connor’s hand again. “What the fuck did he need a dick for? He was supposed to hunt down other deviant androids, right?”

“Prototypes are usually given every possible feature that can be crammed into their programming, with unused features weeded out or presented as add-on ‘options’ to raise their price when they become mass-market models.” Markus buttoned Connor’s fly and picked up his shirt. “Undoubtedly, someone thought a detective might need to seduce someone to get information.”

Hank huffed. “Someone reading too much pulp fiction.” He helped lift Connor’s torso off the bed so Markus could get his shirt around him. “When will Connor wake up?”

“He set his hibernation for two hours, to ensure we had plenty of time for the procedure,” Markus said. “He should wake up in another forty-eight minutes.”

“At least he’ll be in his own bed this time.”

“Actually…” Markus smoothed the shirt down over Connor’s chest and looked to Hank. “I’m worried about that.”

Hank closed his eyes and squeezed Connor’s hand. “ _Was_ it a tracker?”

“I believe so. It’s...capable of two-way communication. CyberLife should be able to find him here.”

“And it’s been here long enough for them to get a bead on the location.”

“It’s not safe,” Markus agreed. “Not even for you or Sumo, if I’m being honest. CyberLife is trying to end this as quickly as possible now. They’ve already taken out the entire police station. If they come after you here…” He looked down at Connor’s body. “The best defense is to simply not be here.”

“Where else can we go?” Hank asked. “Jericho’s out. The station’s out.”

“I’ve got another place,” Markus said. “But first, we need to move the tracker.”

“Move it where?”

As if on cue, Lisa appeared in the doorway, reskinned and dressed. “Markus? I’m ready to go.”

Markus pulled something from his pocket and pressed it into Lisa’s hand. “Remember what I told you. This goes to _Josh_ , and you tell him to find a way to turn it off without destroying it as fast as possible.”

Lisa nodded. “Understood.”

“Lisa.” Hank looked up at the android nurse. She had tried. He knew that. He knew she hadn’t killed Cole. She had tried where humans had failed. She had tried again today, and this time, she had succeeded. “Thank you.”

Lisa looked around the room, still obviously a little boy’s room despite the adult android who now lived here, and nodded. “Thank _you_ , Mr. Anderson.”

“Go,” Markus advised.

After Lisa was gone, Hank rubbed his thumb over Connor’s plastic. “Josh, huh?”

“He was a university lecturer before joining Jericho,” Markus said. “Networks and integration.”

“Convenient.”

“His contributions have certainly helped us on some of our more discreet adventures.”

“Jesus,” Hank muttered. “Fine. Whatever. I’m off-duty. Where are we going?”

“8941 Lafayette Avenue,” Markus answered.

“Lafayette?” Hank pushed himself to his feet. “That’s a fancy-ass neighborhood.”

“I know,” Markus said. “It’s where I grew up.”

“You know,” Hank said with a grunt as he scooped Connor into his arms again, “meet the parents are usually reserved for the pair actually in the relationship, and not the parents of the kid.”

“Heh…” Markus’ skin flowed back over his white casing as he opened doors for Hank. “I think ‘relationship’ might be a little strong for us right now. Let’s just figure out how we’re going to get out of this alive and unchained.”

“Grab Sumo from the bedroom,” Hank said. “I’m driving.”

Hank laid Connor in the backseat of the car, tucking his legs in carefully to make sure the door didn’t hit them. Sumo hopped in and made himself comfortable on top of the android, mostly masking his white skin. Markus slid into the passenger seat. He slouched down, reclining his seat enough to hide half his face behind the frame of the car. If it weren’t for the mangled arm resting in his lap, Hank could almost mistake him for a surly human.

“Everything okay over there?” Hank asked.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to minimize any recognition. Turn left up here.”

Markus directed Hank to an old brick mansion in the heart of the city. It was impressively retrofitted to have all the latest conveniences for an old man in a wheelchair. Hank whistled under his breath as the front door automatically recognized Markus and let them in. “Alarm deactivated. Welcome home, Markus.”

“Markus!” An android emerged from a back room, brushing off his hands. “I was not aware we were expecting you today!” He was a fairly standard model, AP700 or something like that, Hank figured. While his outfit wasn’t fitted with android blues, it was still very stereotypically uniform. His LED was still in place, spinning yellow. Sumo tugged at the leash in Markus’ hand, trying to sniff the new android.

“Sorry, Thomas. I should have called first. Is Carl awake?”

The android, Thomas, shook his head. “He’s been in the habit of going back to sleep after his morning medication. It’ll be another hour or so before he’s likely to wake up. Who are your guests?”

“This is Lieutenant Anderson, his son, Connor, and their dog, Sumo.”

Hank cleared his throat uncomfortably. Connor was his son, of course he was, but acknowledging it was still fairly new.

“Is Connor injured?” Thomas asked. He stepped up to Hank, holding up his arms. “I can take him from you, sir. I don’t tire as easily.”

“You calling me an old man?” Hank asked the android.

“I, um…” Thomas looked to Markus with some distress on his face.

Markus chuckled, waving his hand tiredly. “Lieutenant Anderson, let Thomas take Connor to the second bedroom, all right? You can stay there. I’ll… put Sumo outside for now, I suppose, until we can find someplace more suitable for him. Thomas, I’m going to have someone from Jericho bringing me a new arm. Can you make sure to let them in when they get here? And don’t let Carl see the news until after I’ve had a chance to talk to him.”

“Of course, Markus.” Thomas took Connor from Hank, easily holding his weight. “Right this way, Lieutenant Anderson.”

Hank tucked his hands into his pockets, staring at the opulence of this house as Thomas led him upstairs. “So, uh, the deviant leader employs an android?”

“Oh, I don’t work for Markus,” Thomas said. “I work for Carl, his father.”

“Yeah, that still seems weird…”

“It was, at first,” Thomas admitted. “It’s still quite uncomfortable that Carl insists on paying me for my time. After everything Markus has done for our people, I’d gladly help his father for free. But Carl insists that this is a job deserving of fair compensation, so… I guess I was one of the first androids to get a paycheck.”

“You like it here?”

“Carl is incredibly kind,” Thomas said. “He’s very keen on my improving myself. His first son, Leo, is… obnoxious, but he is trying to better himself as well. And of course, whenever Markus comes over, it is an honor to be able to speak with him.”

The doors in front of Thomas slid open automatically, revealing a bedroom that looked only slightly less fragile than the halls Hank had just walked through. Thomas set Connor down on the king-sized bed and expertly flipped the blankets back, tucking him in. “I was working on breakfast for Carl. It won’t be ready for another hour: since he sleeps in, I was making a breakfast casserole. If you’d like, I can prepare something quicker for you, or bring you some coffee?”

“Coffee would be nice,” Hank said. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking Connor’s hand in his own again. “Feels like I haven’t gotten any sleep at all tonight. You don’t have to cook for me, though.”

“I’ll bring it up. Is there anything else you might need?”

“Uh,” Hank looked around, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “Bathroom?”

“There’s an ensuite just through that door.”


	19. Recovery*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor discovers a new feature from his torture. It is not one he likes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LikeWaterisWet (here on AO3) has provided their interpretation of what Connor has created.
> 
> In addition, the amazing tenorth (dalekanim) from the New ERA discord server has created a [piano theme](https://youtu.be/FJbDDc-Ps0M) for Sacrificial Lamb! Please give it and them some love!

_Coffee, slow-roasted with two sugars and a dollop of cream._

_Scrambled eggs and bell peppers with some bacon and cheese. Seasoned with salt and pepper. Sausage. Toast with butter and strawberry jam._

_Orange juice, from a bottle._

Connor registered scents first, followed by the sounds of cutlery scraping against dishes and a human eating. The drone of a news anchor was quiet in the background. His optical calibrations finished, and Connor cracked his eyes open. The ceiling above was unfamiliar, a brilliant teal decorated with brightly colored geometric shapes.

“Hank…?”

“Connor!” The dishes were hastily set aside, and Connor felt the bed dip beside him. Warm hands wrapped around his, and Connor turned his head to look at his partner beside him. “I’m here, son, it’s okay. Surgery’s over. You’re just fine.”

“All that worry for nothing…” Connor was still skinless. He looked at his white hand in Hank’s, then switched his skin back on. It slid down his arms and up his neck, covering his plastic plating.

“It was _not_ for nothing.” Hank brushed his hand through Connor’s hair. He smelled a bit like whiskey, but mostly like coffee. “They found something in your heart, Connor. Markus had to be your life support while that nurse cut it out.”

“Something… _in_ my heart?” Connor frowned, using his free hand to push himself up until he could lean against the headboard. “Hank… where are we?”

“Markus thought it was a tracking device, or something used to cause you pain,” Hank said. “It’s out now. You’re gonna be okay.”

“But where are we?”

“Apparently, this is where Markus grew up,” Hank said. “Carl Manfred’s house.”

“Oh.” Connor connected some facts quickly. “Because a tracker would lead CyberLife to your house.”

“Smart boy. You ever thought about becoming a detective?”

“That’s what my dad does,” Connor smirked at Hank. “I’ve considered it.”

Hank ruffled Connor’s hair, affection and exasperation warring with the sheer relief on his face. “Seriously though, Connor: how’re you feeling?”

“I feel fine.” Connor prodded his chest experimentally. There wasn’t even a lingering ache, though there was an incredibly odd sensation like he should be feeling more than he was. He must have had quite a few sensors irreparably damaged with the gunshot. “Everything seems to be intact. All of my systems are reporting optimal functionality. My thirium levels could be higher, but they aren’t anywhere near concerning.”

“Geez.” Hank shook his head. “For someone who just had open heart surgery in a bathroom, you sure do bounce back fast.”

Connor smiled at Hank. “Android.”

“Gotta have some perks, I guess,” Hank said. “Since it seems like bullets are fucking magnetized to you.”

“Bullets wouldn’t be affected by-“

“Forget I said anything!” Hank threw up his hands, shaking his head. “Look, Con, I’m an old man. I’m exhausted. I’m gonna finish this breakfast Markus’ android made me, and then I’m gonna take a nap right here. Just needed to make sure you were okay before I passed out. You gonna be okay? Without me awake?”

“I will endeavor to not be shot again or get this building blown up around me,” Connor promised. “Is Markus here?”

“He’s probably downstairs still,” Hank said. “Connor. About Markus…”

“Yes?” Connor swung his legs over the side of the bed, wondering who had tucked the blankets around him. It was unnecessary, but a nice touch. (He added it to his list of touches that felt good.)

“Markus and I, we, uh, we had a bit of a talk. While you were out.” Hank reached over and set his hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Emotions are new to you, so make sure you’re not letting them be in complete control, okay? If he makes you feel uncomfortable for any reason, you make him back off. Understood?”

Connor’s head tilted to the side, his LED spinning yellow as he tried to puzzle this out. “I don’t believe I do understand.”

“Just… _sex_ , Connor.” Hank was a rather alarming shade of red. “Or sex-like stuff. You know. Just because he likes you doesn’t mean he gets to touch you in any way you don’t like.”

Emotions _were_ new to Connor, and a whole wave of them crashed over him at the mention of sex, tied to several terabytes of memories of Cunningham leering at him, hands touching him, things pressing into his body, that damnable Eden routine filling his vision and making him beg for more… Connor couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t think. He was drowning in his fear and shame and it hurt and please, _please_ don’t let Hank see this…

“Connor!” There were hands on him, on his shoulders, and Connor shook them off, moving away as far as he could. His back hit a wall and he slid down it, curling up, trying to be as small a target as he could manage. Not that the Eden routine would let him get away.

 _Markus, Markus, help me Markus, please Markus, please…_ Connor bit hard on his tongue, trying desperately to reach out for his one source of comfort in all this swirling fear.

“Connor, snap out of it, son! It’s just me, it’s just Hank, c’mon, Connor, you’re safe here!”

“Connor!”

There were more hands on him, hands on his face, his skin. Connor tried to pull away, but the touch was firm and then it was in his mind and it was Markus, just Markus, a cool wash of water soothing his overheated processors. Connor sagged, taking a breath, then another. He shivered against Markus’ solid chest, ignoring the murmured voices above in favor of curling his fingers into Markus’ shirt.

**_Connor? Can you open your eyes and look at me?_ **

Connor trusted Markus. He trusted Markus to keep him safe. He opened his eyes and tipped his head up. Cunningham wasn’t there. It was just Markus crouched in front of him, and Hank was kneeling by his side. Simon and a new android were hovering in the doorway, looking worried.

“...oh.”

“Connor?” Hank reached out, offering his hand. Connor watched it approach like a snake, watched it stop, and stiffly freed one hand from Markus’ shirt to accept the offering. “You okay there, son?”

“I...don’t know what that was.” Connor blinked, letting Hank and Markus help him to his feet. He was still in the same room as before, in Markus’ father’s house. Cunningham was nowhere near. The Eden routine was not currently active. There was no explanation for Connor’s sudden panic attack.

“Androids with PTSD,” Markus murmured. “Connor, you’ve been through a lot, and you haven’t had much time to process it all in these last twenty-four hours. Memory glitches aren’t uncommon, even among androids.”

“Memory glitches…” Connor sat on the edge of the bed, Hank on one side, Markus on the other. “I… was reliving a memory. Several of them. They were all mixed together. I thought… I thought I was back at the tower.”

“You’re not.” Hank looked as shaken as Connor felt. “You’re _not_ , and there is no way in hell you will ever be there again. I won’t let them lay a hand on you.”

“I…” Connor swallowed and licked his lips, his hands rubbing together automatically. He reached for a tie he wasn’t wearing, then rubbed his hands together again. “Is there… is there an outside here?”

“Yes, the back garden,” Markus said. “Sumo is out there.”

“Want me to come with you?” Hank asked.

Connor took a breath, then shook his head. “Please don’t be offended, but… I think I want to be alone right now.”

“That’s okay, son,” Hank said. “I’ll still be here when you’re ready for company again.”

Connor nodded, not looking at Hank or meeting anyone else’s eyes. He got to his feet, following Markus out the door without reaching for the other android. Simon and the unfamiliar android ducked to the side, but Connor could feel their eyes on him.

Markus unlocked a glass door and held it open for Connor. “Take as much time as you need,” he said. “Call for me if you need me. Whenever you’re ready, you can come back in.”

Connor nodded again, stepping outside. Immediately, the heat of the sun fell across his face, and a faint breeze ruffled his hair. This was nothing like inside the tower. He could breathe a little easier. “Thank you, Markus.”

Markus looked like he wanted to say something more or do something more, but to Connor’s relief, he did neither. He offered Connor a simple little smile and nod before retreating inside.

Connor tipped his head back to feel the sun play over his cheeks. He took several deep breaths, categorizing the various scents of the plants in the garden, then followed his nose around the corner to find Sumo napping in the shade beneath a tree, snoring noisily.

“Hello, Sumo.”

Sumo snorted and lifted his head, tail thumping at the sound of his name in a familiar voice. He borfed and got to his feet, charging Connor. Connor crouched down to meet the impact, rocking onto his butt from the momentum and wrapping his arms around the huge dog. He pressed his face into Sumo’s fur and held on tight, letting Sumo’s tongue swipe over his hair and ear. Here, hidden behind warm fur, Connor could let himself cry where no one would see him. Sumo sat on his knees and Connor gave a choked little laugh. “I like dogs,” he whispered. “You don’t judge, or ask questions. You just love unconditionally, accepting us for all our screwed up ways as long as we remember to put food in your bowl.”

Sumo woofed his agreement, his meaty breath stirring Connor’s hair. Connor laughed again, easier this time. He let Sumo’s heartbeat drive away his stress, fingers moving rhythmically through the dog’s thick fur.

Inside the house, Connor knew the androids were moving around. He could tell when the heat signature of a seated human joined them, but he didn't pull away from Sumo just yet. The dog was more than content to let Connor scruff up his fur and scratch behind his ears, licking Connor's face clean of tears. Connor laughed softly, wiping his face off. “I can't avoid them forever, but I don't want to answer their questions.”

Sumo woofed and thumped his tail, then lifted his head to sniff the air. Connor sniffed too, smiling as he picked out the scent that had piqued the dog's interest.

“I suspect that bacon is for Carl Manfred, but you have been a very good boy. I'll see if I can get some for you.” Asking for bacon was a good conversation topic that did not involve Connor's spontaneous memory glitch earlier. “Come along, Sumo.”

With the St. Bernard trotting along at Connor's side, tall enough for Connor's fingers to brush against the top of his head, Connor felt strong enough to return to the house. Markus’ eyes slid toward him when he opened the door, but after a brief scan and a little smile, he turned his attention back to the frail man in a wheelchair.

Carl Manfred, however, did turn to look at Connor fully. He was old, older than Hank, with a sunken look that revealed his skeleton beneath his skin. Plastic tubing wrapped around his face, helping him breathe, but the steely eyes above were still full of life and vigor. “And you must be Connor. It's about time you came to visit. I've met all of Markus’ other friends.”

“Carl…” Markus’ voice was full of exasperated fondness.

“Come here, Connor. Let me take a look at you.”

Connor hesitated for a couple microseconds, not sure if he wanted the intense scrutiny from another human right now.

“Carl did this to all of us,” Simon said. He was sitting across the table from Markus, watching Carl with his own trace of fondness. “Has to make sure we're good influences on his baby boy.”

“Simon!” Markus protested, as Carl gave a wheezy laugh.

Connor edged forward, Sumo sticking close to his feet. He hesitated again as Carl pushed his chair back from the table and turned out to face Connor, but then he dropped down onto one knee so Carl didn't have to look up at him.

There was approval in Carl's old eyes. Connor met them for a moment before dropping his gaze back to Sumo. He could feel Carl's eyes heavy upon him.

“Markus has talked quite a lot about you,” Carl remarked. “The android detective. Tell me, Detective. What do you see when you look at me?”

“I'm not technically a detective,” Connor corrected.

“Bah. Semantics.” Carl dismissed such petty concerns with a flick of his hand. “What do you _see_?”

This was a test. Connor wasn't entirely sure why Carl was testing him, but he knew this was a test. He wasn't sure if this was a test of his analytical skills, however, or his claim to life.

Connor took a breath and looked up. He scanned Carl over, cross-referencing what he saw with what he knew from his databases. When Carl's name first cropped up in the deviant investigation, Connor had pulled his files. He called them up now.

“Carl Frederick Manfred, born July 13, 1963.” He tilted his head to the side. “Happy 76th birthday.” Carl huffed a little chuckle, and Connor continued. “A prolific artist of the early 2000s, known primarily for your paintings and work in shaping the neo-Symbolist movement. One biological son, Leo, and,” Connor glanced at Markus, “one surrogate son, Markus. A retrospective of your work was unveiled last year at the Museum of Modern Art, which you did attend. Your recent years have been plagued with difficulties from your well-publicized accident and declining health. Long-time friend Elijah Kamski presented you with an android to make things easier. Shortly thereafter, you resumed painting.”

“A succinct biography,” Carl said, “but not what I asked.”

Connor was silent, looking Carl over again. Instead of drawing from facts he knew, he pulled up his negotiator skills. If this were an interrogation, what would he use to navigate the conversation?

“Your body is failing, but your mind is sharp. You are far more rebellious than you look. You know you are dying, but you are not afraid. You face each day with your head held high, a trait you passed on to at least one of your sons.” Carl smiled faintly, and Connor continued. “You are proud of Markus. You worry about him. You…” Connor followed Carl's gaze to Markus, studying the android for a moment, before looking back at Carl, his head tilting to the side. “He is why you don't fear death. He makes you strong again.”

“Heh,” Carl said softly. “Android detective. Markus, make sure you keep this one close. He's clever. He'll keep you alive.”

“He already has,” Markus said. “Connor, would you like to join us?”

Connor pushed himself back to his feet, his fingers knotting in Sumo's fur. “I came to find some bacon for Sumo, actually.”

“Who's a good boy?” Carl asked, picking up a strip of bacon from his plate and offering it to the dog. “Who's a very good boy?”

Sumo devoured the bacon and attempted to inhale Carl's hand as well. “I do believe you have ingratiated yourself to him forever, Mr. Manfred.”

“Carl,” Carl insisted. “Mr. Manfred makes me feel old.”

“I'll get more bacon.” The new android got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. Connor quickly scanned his serial number, but his access to CyberLife's database was unavailable as long as his network access was offline. Connor frowned. He didn't like his queries returning no information.

Markus pulled out the chair next to him in a silent invitation. Sumo seemed quite happy to put his feet on Carl's legs to be better positioned for a head rub, so he was no help. Connor took the offered seat. Beneath the table, Markus’ hand brushed his, skin peeling away. **_Thomas._**

_Excuse me?_

**_The AP700. His name is Thomas. He took over my caretaker duties for Carl after I...left._ **

_Ah. Thank you._

**_You looked puzzled._ **

_I don't like being offline._

**_I'm sorry. I can't imagine it's very pleasant._ **

_It's not your fault._

Markus squeezed Connor's wrist before withdrawing, laughing at Sumo and Carl as if he hadn't just been carrying out a private conversation with Connor. Simon was eyeing them over the table speculatively. Connor fought the urge to duck his head again. He couldn't hide from them forever.

“I was not expecting to see you here, Simon.”

“Markus needed a replacement arm brought,” Simon explained with a smile, “and I needed an escape from the media frenzy about to explode. The two objectives happened to coincide.”

“Media frenzy?” Connor asked.

“Television on.” Markus let the morning news answer Connor's question. The explosion at the main DPD station was the top story. Dozens of reporters were at the scene. Connor scanned the video feed, identifying personnel still alive and frowning at the sight of six figures draped in cloths stained with blue blood.

“Thank you for warning me before I saw that,” Carl murmured, reaching across the table to take Markus’ hand and squeeze it. “I don't know how well my heart would have taken that scare. Losing you once was bad enough.”

“I'll make a point of notifying Thomas every time I survive an assassination attempt,” Markus assured Carl.

“I'd rather you didn't have assassination attempts at all,” Carl sighed, “but that's an old dad talking. Don't think I'm ever upset about the way your life turned out. You're surrounding yourself with good people. They'll keep you alive.”

“What is Jericho's official stance on this attack?” Connor asked.

“We are as shocked and horrified as you. This bombing was thoroughly unexpected and a blatant attack on Markus. The species of the perpetrators does not matter so much as the extreme ignorance and hatred behind this act. Jericho will stand behind the DPD and offer our full cooperation in uncovering the origin and intentions of this bomb,” Simon immediately rattled off. “And in response to questions about Markus: Markus survived the attack early this morning. He is currently in the protective custody of some of DPD's finest detectives. We will organize a press conference with him when the police give us the all clear. Until then, we will not be jeopardizing their investigation.”

“You are very good as Jericho's press secretary,” Connor admitted.

“Oh please. Very good is an understatement. Simon is the brains behind Jericho. I'm just the pretty face who speaks the words he gives me!” Markus grinned across the table at the PL600, who looked gracefully bashful.

“Markus, this movement would have never gone anywhere if I remained the head of it-”

“Yeah, yeah, you androids are all incapable of taking credit for anything.” Carl shook his head.

“I have more bacon!” Thomas returned with a tray full of perfectly crisp bacon, thankfully returning all attention to Sumo. The dog was more than happy to caper about like a puppy if it meant savory treats from a variety of hands.

Markus’ fingers curled around Connor's wrist again, then slid down across his palm and interlaced with his own. There was no push for a connection, just contact. Connor's breath caught in his throat, remembering Hank's words.

_Just because he likes you doesn't mean he gets to touch you in any way you don't like._

_Did_ Connor like this? Yes. He liked the weight of Markus’ hand in his own, the solid comfort of knowing the other male was right there, ready to catch him and keep him grounded. He liked the way Markus had held him too, pressed against his back and wrapping Connor in his arms.

Cunningham held him like that too. Dropped him off the electromagnet and laughed those horrible words. He'd come up behind Connor, pulling him to his feet, pressing his erect penis against Connor's ass and his lips against the skin below his ear.

“Connor?”

The murmur was low, near his ear. Connor flinched, squeezing his eyes shut.

**_Connor!_ **

Markus. Markus in his head, calling his name, squeezing his hand. Markus, not Cunningham. Shit. Was his memory glitching again? Connor forced his eyes open, staring at the table. His thirium pump regulator was malfunctioning, letting his pump beat too fast and erratic. He couldn't stop breathing, his lungs caught in some sort of quick, shallow pattern. Connor squeezed Markus’ hand back, his grip growing tighter with every breath he failed to slow down.

Markus kept the connecting between their hands, but he nudged Connor's chair back and tugged him to his feet. Connor moved where Markus pulled him, focusing only on that touch of Markus’ mind against his own. Simon's voice was loud but distorted, calling attention to something...Sumo? Everyone was looking at Sumo. Not Connor, as Markus nudged him through a door.

When the doors slid shut, they were plunged into a world of silence. Sunlight poured through walls of glass. Connor broke away from Markus’ grasp to move toward the light. He pressed his hands to the glass and stared up at the sky.

There was no sky in the tower. Sometimes, there was Markus but never the sky.

“Maybe the problem isn't that you're being stressed too soon,” Markus murmured. “Maybe you're finally not stressed enough, and you're beginning to process your trauma.”

“I don’t like having trauma.” Connor pressed his forehead to the glass.

Markus laughed, soft and low. “No one does.”

“How do I get rid of it?”

“You don’t. Trauma never goes away. It’ll heal, in time, but it’ll always remain a scar across your psyche.”

Connor closed his eyes, his hands sliding down the glass.

“Sometimes talking about it helps,” Markus said. His voice was soothing. Connor loved his voice, ever since he first heard it in Stratford Tower, a siren call to the deviant side.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Connor…” Markus had moved closer, based on the sound of his voice, but he was still far enough back that Connor wasn’t feeling trapped. He grimaced, pushing away from the window.

“I _can’t_ talk about it,” he clarified. “I don’t know what to say, where to even begin. I don’t have the words for what I’m feeling. I don’t even _understand_ what I’m feeling! How can I talk about something that…” Connor twisted his hands together in front of is chest, giving a frustrated growl.

Markus stood several paces away, hands tucked into the pockets of his long coat, looking thoughtful. “Maybe… maybe we don’t use words.”

Connor dug in his own pockets, wishing he had a coin. “You already have all of the memories. You _know_ what happened.”

“It’s not about me knowing,” Markus said. “It’s about you getting it out. Let’s try something.”

Connor rubbed his hands together as Markus turned away, finding a blank canvas in the art studio they were standing in and propping it up on an easel. “Are you going to paint?”

“No.” Markus aimed a teasing smile over his shoulder. “ _You_ are.”

“I don’t paint, Markus,” Connor said. “It was never considered a primary function for my model series, and until I reconnect to the network, I can’t download any new skills.”

“Good,” Markus said. “We’re not aiming for skills. Come over here, Connor.” When Connor hesitated, Markus’ smile grew softer. “Humor me?”

Connor sighed, crossing the room. He let Markus take his shoulders and position him in front of the easel, then took the palette and brush Markus handed him. “I don’t know what good you think this will do.”

“Close your eyes.” Markus stepped back. Even with his eyes closed, Connor could track his movements by the sound of his shoes on the cement floor, the swish of his coat. “Think about how you’re feeling. Not _now_ , not the confusion over being asked to paint, but then. When you were starting to panic.”

“Markus…” Connor really didn’t want to dredge up that emotion again.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here.” Markus stepped back, his hands resting on Connor’s shoulders. He was behind Connor, but he wasn’t pressed against him. “If you fall too deep in, I’ll pull you out. It’s okay.”

“I don’t want to do this…”

“Please? Just try once. Just once. If it doesn’t help, I won’t ask you to do it again.”

Connor took a breath that was shaky with his emotion. He adjusted his grip on the brush, squeezing it tightly. “O-okay… just once.”

Markus was holding his shoulders, but Cunningham would grab Connor’s hips, pull him close, grind up against him. That damnable routine would make Connor moan and press back, trying to grab for more.

“ _Paint,_ ” Markus whispered. His hand slid down Connor’s arm, drawing it forward to touch the brush to the canvas. “Whatever you’re feeling. Whatever it looks like inside your head. Put it down on this canvas.”

Connor held the brush steady as Markus’ hand returned to his shoulder. What did Markus mean by that? What was in his head? What was in his head were memories, so many memories, rushing and crushing together.

The brush slashed against the canvas, sharp lines of the machines that held him, pinned him, tore him apart and put him back together again. Red, the color of their blood pounding through their veins, flushing their skin, the color of their mouths and tongues and _black_ , the shadows that defined everything, the darkness in their eyes, the color of the screen after Markus’ calls ended, red and black and _blue_ , CyberLife blue, android blue, thirium blue, pulsing through his veins, pounding in his head, spilled from his lips and his tongue and Connor gave a shout, pushing away from the painting and panting, the brush and palette clattering to the ground.

 

“Connor…”

Markus was still standing behind him, holding his shoulders, staring at the painting. Connor lifted his head to look at the paint-splattered mess of jagged lines and angry colors and it was horrible and ugly and exactly what he felt inside. Connor exhaled slowly, then twisted around and hid in Markus’ chest, curling in on himself. Markus followed him down, drawing Connor into his lap and tucking around him like a protective shield.

Sixty-five seconds after Connor felt he could breathe properly again, Markus spoke.

“How do you feel now?”

Connor shifted, turning his head so his cheek was pressed against Markus’ chest. He could hear the steady beating of Markus’ thirium pump against his ear and every deep breath the other android took. “I don’t know.” How _did_ he feel? “I don’t feel like he’s… right there. For now.”

“Is that better?”

Connor nodded. “I think so.” He didn’t want to move. He was safe right here. “I feel drained of energy, good and bad.”

“It’s a start.”

Connor nodded again.

“When it gets too much inside of me, I paint,” Markus said. He tucked his head against Connor’s, murmuring the words into Connor’s hair. “I don’t really know the words that much better than you do, but I know I don’t need to. You could take that painting to anyone, to Lieutenant Anderson, and say ‘I feel _this_ ,’ and they’ll understand. He’ll understand.”

“How?” Connor asked. “It’s just colors and lines. It’s not even anything in particular.”

“It’s emotion, Connor. That’s what art _is,_ emotion made tangible. It’s taking something you have no words for and translating it into a medium that doesn’t need words.”

Connor was quiet, mulling over Markus’ words, the painting, the feelings that roiled within him. He didn’t like emotions. He didn’t like the nonsensical way they defied logic, or how they could be triggered by something as insubstantial as a memory. He preferred facts and observable conclusions. Experiments that could be replicated with consistent outcomes. If he could remove all of these troublesome _feelings_ , he would gladly replace them with the cold logic held by machinery.

Markus’ hand drifted down his arm, fingers skimming just over the fabric of his shirt. The caress was soft and gentle, leaving a warmth that was not physical but was comforting. Connor breathed out, silently cursing Markus’ sense of timing.

Removing all feelings was not just removing all bad feelings. If Connor were a machine, that touch would not bring comfort but confusion. Comfort wasn’t a thing Connor would be able to feel. He’d take a moment to determine the most likely cause of Markus’ contact, then calmly inform Markus that he did not have feelings to be comforted and the physical affection was unnecessary.

Hank’s hugs would also be meaningless, and the way Sumo rested his head in Connor’s lap and huffed softly as he was falling asleep. There would be no shame in being used for any purpose, but also no pride in his own accomplishments. There would be no art, no music, no heavy metal, just chemical compositions of pigments and noise in patterns. Being alive _sucked_ , but the parts that were good were so, _so_ good.

“This is more than a hug,” Connor finally said. He could feel Markus’ laugh in his hair.

“Yeah, I suppose most hugs don’t involve your whole body like this.”

Connor filtered through definitions in his head until he settled on _cradling_.  Markus was cradling him. “I like it.” Cradling felt good. Connor added it to his list of good touches.

“I like it too.” Markus made no move to get up, and neither did Connor. There were no uncomfortable questions here, no expectations. It was easy to drop into a lower power mode, letting his perceptions minimize to just Markus around him. Their breathing synced up automatically, and Connor idly played with the rhythm of his thirium pump regulator to see if he could sync their heartbeats. It was difficult, as his was meant to run faster than Markus’ to keep his array of sensors active, but if he switched some of those off manually, he could drop his power consumption to around the same level as Markus’.

Markus chuckled, nudging his nose against Connor’s head. “I can feel what you’re doing.”

“The offset was bothering me.”

“I can speed mine up to make it easier.”

Against his ear, Connor could hear Markus’ rhythm speed up. He adjusted his down a little further to compensate, but then Markus had kept going up and was now faster. Connor shifted his heartbeat up, but Markus had adjusted down, and now Markus was laughing and shaking his head. “This is hopeless…”

“Just…” Connor turned, nuzzling against Markus’ chest. “Just stop, hold it right there…” He pressed his lips over Markus’ thirium pump, letting the delicate sensors of his mouth measure the heartbeat. “I said hold it steady,” he grumbled as Markus’ heartbeat continued to rise.

“I can’t hold it steady if you’re going to be doing that to me,” Markus murmured, his fingers threading into Connor’s hair.

Markus’ heartbeat was picking up _because Connor was kissing him_. Connor looked up sharply, meeting Markus’ mismatched eyes. Markus had been watching him. Markus was still watching him. Markus had a heavy _want_ in his gaze that Connor was all too familiar with. Markus’ desire was tinged with awe, though, a disbelief that this was real. Cunningham never looked at him like that.

Connor freed one hand from Markus’ shirt and lifted it, touching the smooth skin of the other male’s cheek. It was soft and dry, the faintest whisper of stubble to make him seem that much more human. Markus turned his head and pressed his lips to Connor’s fingertips, and Connor felt his own pulse jump in reaction to the affection.

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t have to,” Markus murmured, but Connor shook his head.

“No, not _this_.” He touched Markus’ lips, tracing the shape. _This_ , whatever it was, Connor sort of understood in a way he couldn’t put words to. This felt good. Markus made him feel good. He must make Markus feel good, to some extent, for Markus to keep doing this sort of thing with him. Feeling good felt… good. Connor’s knew it couldn’t possibly be that simple, but at the same time, it was enough of a framework for him to not be flailing in the dark. Markus’ soft kisses were not what was confusing Connor. “You. Thinking about you.”

“Thinking about me?”

“Both times my memory glitched, I was thinking about you.” It was easier to watch his fingers moving over Markus’ lips than it was to look up at those mismatched eyes.

“What about me?”

“How you touch me. How it felt. Not like…” Connor didn’t even want to say the words, even to Markus, who knew what had happened, had _seen_ it happen through Connor’s own memories.

Markus’ lips frowned beneath Connor’s fingers, and he immediately dropped his hand and his gaze. He shouldn’t have mentioned it.

“You feel like you’re back in CyberLife Tower whenever you think of me touching you?” Markus asked. “Like this?” He gave a little squeeze of his arms.

Connor shook his head. “Not _you_ touching me.”

“But you just said…”

“I’m an analytical model,” Connor reminded Markus. “Everything I experience, I try to connect it to something else. It’s helpful for investigations and piecing together sparse evidence, but when it comes to physicality…”

“You don’t have enough experience to connect it to anything other than Cunningham in that room,” Markus realized.

“And so I pull up those memories and…” Connor gestured toward the painting.

“Would you like me to stop touching you?” Markus asked.

“No.” Connor didn’t even have to think about that answer. “Your touch does not trigger negative responses. Quite the opposite. It’s only when I start thinking about it that I crash.”

“My touch triggers positive responses?”

Connor found the strength to look up at Markus’ warm eyes. “I’m sitting in your lap wrapped in your arms. I’m not sure how you could infer I’m getting anything but positive responses from this.”

“What about when I kiss you?” Markus asked. “Does that trigger positive responses?”

“When you kissed me previously, I was in a state of extremely high stress. Your kisses were aimed to calm me down and offer comfort, which it did succeed in.”

“And what if I kissed you now?” Markus’ voice was quiet, like he was whispering a secret just for Connor to hear. Connor felt his thirium pump stutter and jump, his pulse hopelessly out of sync with Markus’.

Cunningham had never kissed him. Not on the mouth, at least. There were no bad memories for Connor to link to a kiss from Markus. _If he makes you feel uncomfortable for any reason, you make him back off,_ Hank had advised him just this morning.

“I need more data before I can make an informed judgement.” Markus never made Connor feel uncomfortable before, and he certainly wasn’t now.

“Is that an invitation?” Markus asked. He was leaning in, their mouths almost touching.

“That’s a request.”


	20. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus finds out what that thing in Connor's heart was, and the group needs to find a way to stop CyberLife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is thanks to Sphere (Connor is a good boy) and su (#1 Lisa Fan) from the discord server who drew some of Connor's stick figure art for me: arresting Gavin and the Anderson family. JOIN THE DISCORD SERVER SO YOU CAN SEE IT TOO!

Kissing Connor was unlike kissing anyone else.

Not that Markus really had a lot of personal experience to draw from himself.

Kissing Connor was unlike kissing North. Connor took a moment to analyze the kiss before reciprocating it. A human wouldn’t be able to perceive the hesitation, but Markus could feel the eight microseconds of stillness before Connor’s lips moved against his. There had been no pause with North...but then again, North had been born knowing how to kiss. Markus had a lifetime of experience drawn from her memories: hard kisses, soft kisses, sloppy kisses, desperate kisses. Somehow, he doubted ‘how to kiss’ had been one of the programs loaded into Connor upon creation. Without that innate knowledge and without an internet connection, all Connor could do was learn from what Markus was doing.

And learn Connor was. He was mirroring Markus at first, but the more data Markus fed him, the more he changed up their kiss, the more Connor learned. Perhaps more so than any other android, Connor was built to consume information and extrapolate from it. When he caught Markus’ lower lip between his own, sucking gently, that was entirely Connor. So was the trace of Connor’s tongue against it, and the slight little gasp as his mouth sensors deconstructed Markus’ taste. Markus chuckled into Connor’s mouth, dropping his arms low around Connor’s waist. “You know my composition now?” he asked.

“It’s very complicated,” Connor murmured back. His arms folded around Markus’ neck like they belonged there. “I’ve chosen to condense it under a single tag to prevent overloading.”

“Oh? What are you calling it?”

“ _Good._ ” Connor’s mouth caught Markus’ again, drawing them both back into the endless kiss.

_Incoming call: #165 321 766…_

Markus quickly blocked the call from Josh when it came. Connor’s mouth was open beneath his, fingers pressing in against his shoulders, a soft whine in the back of his throat that was anything but pained, and Markus was in no mood for Jericho problems. For once, he wanted to be selfish.

_Incoming call: #369 911 329…_

Simon’s page came a few minutes later. Markus huffed, breaking away from Connor’s mouth. Connor gave a soft sound that was almost a sigh, sinking forward and settling his head against Markus’ shoulder. “Answer it,” he said. “It’s probably important. It probably _is_ important. I should see if Hank is awake yet.”

Markus tightened his arms around Connor’s waist. “Stay,” he whispered, before accepting Simon’s call.

**_Did something happen?_ **

_Should I be asking you that?_ There was a teasing lilt to Simon’s voice. _How long does it take to calm Connor down from a panic attack anyway?_

**_That is absolutely none of your business._ **

_On the contrary, if my fearless leader is romantically pursuing an escaped android wanted by CyberLife, that is something I need to be kept abreast of, so we can maintain control of the story in the media._ Simon was still teasing, even though he had a valid point. Markus sighed against Connor’s hair.

**_Cute as you think you are, you’re not calling me about Connor._ **

_I’m calling you because Josh had a momentary panic that you were dead. Good thing it was just Josh. If you’d blocked North, I’m sure half of Detroit would be burning already._

**_I knew you could handle Josh._ **

_He wants to talk to you about something Lisa brought him. A tracker? He said it’s very concerning for our cause._

**_Should I call him, or…?_ **

_In person is probably best, with Lieutenant Anderson at least, from the sounds of what he was saying. Connor too. He’s at Jericho now, but we could ask him to come here._

Markus considered the options briefly and shook his head. **_We’ll go to Jericho. Carl doesn’t need to be wrapped up in this any more than he already has._**

_Sounds good. Also, Leo is on his way here._

**_Thank you for the warning._ **

Markus disconnected from Simon and groaned softly into Connor’s hair. Connor’s fingers brushed up over his cheek. “What happened?”

“Nothing extreme, just a lot of little frustrations.” Markus kissed Connor’s fingers. “There are some days I wish I weren’t the savior of androids.”

“I can’t imagine any day I’d wish I _were._ ”

Markus nudged Connor off his lap. Without his arms holding the other android down, Connor unfolded gracefully, automatically adjusting his clothes and smoothing out the wrinkles. His right hand dipped in his pocket, a little frown pinching his face.

“Josh wants to talk to us. You, me, Simon, Lieutenant Anderson. We should get to Jericho.”

Connor nodded, following Markus out the door.

As testament to how much time they’d spent sitting on the floor lost in each other’s mouths, Lieutenant Anderson was actually already awake. He was sitting at the chessboard in the window, playing against Carl. Simon was stretched out on the couch with Sumo resting on his legs, working at a tablet, and Thomas was dusting.

Lieutenant Anderson looked over as they emerged and cleared his throat pointedly. “You, ah, doing better there, Connor?” Although he was addressing his partner, his heavy, knowing eyes were on Markus.

“My memories seem to be under control,” Connor replied.

“I’m being called away.” Markus approached the chess table and crouched beside Carl, drawing him into a hug. “I’m sorry I have to work on your birthday.”

“I know, I know.” Carl’s hands were light on Markus’ back, much of his strength sapped by his illness. “Simon’s already filled us in, and I know you and Leo are still… Leo will keep me company this afternoon. I’m glad I was able to see you at all today.”

“I love you, Dad.” Markus loved how he could feel Carl’s smile through his whole body.

“I love you too, my boy. Go on. Save the world again. And call Thomas immediately if you survive any more assassination attempts!”

“Check,” said Lieutenant Anderson.

Carl drew away from Markus to survey the table. He moved one knight. “Checkmate.”

“Bah. Gonna have to get Connor to sharpen up my skills to play at your level.”

“It was still a very good game. Nice to not play against a supercomputer for once.”

Lieutenant Anderson caught Carl’s eye and gave a deep nod. “Thank you.”

“It’s not easy,” Carl said. “But you do it because you love him.”

The lieutenant nodded again and got to his feet, digging in his pocket. “Connor, you got shotgun. Markus and Simon, you get to wrangle Sumo. Let’s go to Jericho.”

“Up.” Simon poked Sumo in the side. “Dog. Up. Get up. I need to get up. No, wrong up! Wrong up!”

Markus laughed, rescuing Simon from Sumo crawling up his chest and slobbering doggy kisses all over his face. As he helped drag Sumo toward the lieutenant’s car, he noticed Connor and the lieutenant hanging back. Connor was listening, his LED spinning yellow, to whatever Lieutenant Anderson was telling him.

 _They had a talk about being dads to android saviors,_ Simon said, shoving Sumo into the car on top of Markus’ legs. _Your dad and his._

**_Ah. Anything I should know?_ **

_Probably nothing you don’t already know._ Simon managed to squeeze himself into the backseat with Markus and Sumo. _Carl loves you. Lieutenant Anderson is fiercely protective of Connor._

Markus smiled, scrubbing his hands through Sumo’s fur. Yes, he already knew that, but it was still nice to hear.

Connor slid into the front seat and twisted around to scratch Sumo’s side, laughing as the dog got his tail between the front seats, smacking him in the arm. Lieutenant Anderson climbed behind the wheel, grumbling about dog asses and shoving Sumo fully into the back. “Everyone all buckled up? Connor… no, sorry. Markus, you can run GPS duties.”

Markus directed the lieutenant to New Jericho. There was still one patrol car inside the walls and glowing crime scene tape stretched across the bar. North came running up as soon as the car stopped, hauling Markus out and hugging him tight. “You asshole!” Just behind her were Fred and Ted, Markus’ self-appointed bodyguards.

“I’m sorry, North.” Markus hugged her back. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay _now_ , but you got your entire arm blown off!”

“Not blown off entirely, just damaged to the point where a replacement was more sensical than a repair.”

“Markus, we’re sorry.”

“We’re sorry, Markus.”

Markus rubbed North’s back before letting her go, turning to face the two TR400s. “I told you two to take the night off. I had every intention of staying in Jericho, and we all believed it was safe inside these walls. In no way is what happened on your shoulders, understood?”

“We won’t let you down again.”

“You haven’t let me down yet.” Markus reached up to squeeze their shoulders. TR400s were giants, capable of withstanding a lot of strain. They made good bodyguards, if it weren’t for the fact that Markus hated anyone else putting his life before their own. Still, he supposed Fred and Ted had more space not made up of vital biocomponents than someone like Connor.

“Josh is in your office,” North said. “I’m supposed to take you all up the moment you arrived.”

“What, uh…” Lieutenant Anderson gestured at the St. Bernard. “What can we do with him?”

North blinked a few times rapidly. A moment later, an AX400 came jogging up. “I love dogs!” she exclaimed. “I’ll be happy to watch him for you!”

“That’s what we’ll do with him. This way.” North turned on her heel and started for the main building.

Inside the office, Josh was pacing back and forth, rubbing his hands together. The tracker pulled from Connor’s heart was sitting on the table. Fred and Ted entered the room and swept the perimeter. North flung herself into one of the chairs around the central table. Simon sat with more control. Lieutenant Anderson stood behind a chair, and Connor approached the little device.

“Is this… what was inside my thirium pump?”

“Yes.” Josh turned, giving Markus a smile and a nod before looking to Connor. “It’s… quite a nasty piece of technology.”

Connor picked it up, focusing intently on the tracker. Markus knew he was scanning it. Idly, he wondered if Connor would try to taste it.

“What does it do?” Lieutenant Anderson asked, his voice a low growl.

“Several things,” Josh said. “It’s a sophisticated tracking device. I haven’t figured out how to deactivate that aspect of it without frying the whole thing. It’s also able to interface with an android on contact-“

“Connor, put that thing down!”

“It’s not currently interfacing with me, Hank.” However, Connor did set the device back on the table.

Josh shook his head. “Even our synthetic skin is enough of a barrier to prevent an interface. This device was designed to be implemented internally, hijacking sensor outputs and corrupting the data. It is triggered externally, by some sort of remote or app, however, there does not seem to be a way to wirelessly connect to the device to change anything on it.”

“I kept having blackouts,” Connor said quietly. “I’d lose time, and I’d only know about it because Markus’ call would come sooner than I expected. The… pain I could sense would change during the times when I had blackouts. It was crude at first, but then…”

“They were studying you,” Markus said quietly. “Learning. Learning how to make an android’s sensors register pain instead of simple touch.”

“But they weren’t actually causing damage. They were just triggering this _thing_ to corrupt the normal data.”

“In your thirium pump, it was connected to everything.”

Connor’s hand clenched into a fist, his dark eyes focused on the bit of metal and wire that had caused him so much pain.

“But it’s out now,” North said. “So it can’t control you anymore.”

Connor rapped his knuckles on the table, hard. “Ow.”

“Did that actually hurt?” Markus asked. While they couldn’t feel pain, androids had been programmed to occasionally make noises of pain to warn humans that they were taking damage that might require expensive repairs.

“It did,” Connor admitted.

“Fucking hell,” Lieutenant Anderson breathed out. “So you can still be hurt? Do you have another one of these things inside of you?”

“I don’t think I have to.” Connor reached up and rubbed his face, then looked back over his shoulder at Markus. There was a broken look to his eyes. “They upgraded my programming.”

Just before Detective Reed showed up. Markus knew which memory Connor was talking about. They had installed all kinds of programs that could be triggered with codewords, but there was an entire section of Connor’s systems that he was locked out of. There could be anything behind those walls, including a program that changed how his sensors output data.

“Alex was scared of Amanda,” Markus said, thinking aloud. “Scared of being _hurt_. Androids aren’t usually scared of hurting so much as being damaged.”

“Alex was another RK800,” Connor said. “His memories weren’t, but his body was. The software controlling his body would have been the same as mine. And Shane was an RK900. Our components are largely identical, so logically, the software for him would have been a direct descendent of mine.”

“Alex and Shane were those two androids downstairs who tried to blow your head off, Markus?” Lieutenant Anderson asked. Connor nodded. “And they’re the ones who kidnapped that little girl and killed her?” Markus nodded. “And you’re saying they were scared of being hurt?” The man took a deep breath, pushing both his hands into his hair. “Jesus Christ. This is sounding like extortion.”

“Crimes caused by androids have been on the rise,” Simon said, tapping his tablet and pulling up some statistics. “It’s becoming quite a problem. We’ve been constantly putting out statements about how this is not the way Jericho conducts itself. Despite our best efforts, android crimes have been slowly but surely chipping away at our public support.”

“Shane… what Shane said when he took aim at Markus didn’t sound right,” Connor said. He looked over at Lieutenant Anderson. “He was speaking too loud, and he made a very deliberate point of stating Markus’ name.”

“You killed him. Markus.” Lieutenant Anderson rubbed his hand over his chin. “Fuck. You’re right. That’s a sound byte right there if I ever heard one. Crowded room, one clear voice saying Markus killed an android, then Markus disappears for a while…”

“There were six androids at the police station bombing,” Connor said. “I need to see them. Alex and Shane again too.”

“You’re not a cop right now, Connor. You’re not gonna have clearance to get in there. Is there anything I can check on for you?”

“You can’t analyze them the way I can. Nobody else can, except CyberLife, and we do _not_ want them tampering with this evidence.”

“You’re already on shaky ice as it is, Connor. CyberLife’s got Reed trying to haul you back in.”

“Can Connor be evidence?” Josh asked. “Evidence is all stored together in one room, right? Can Connor be taken there as evidence in this case?”

“People are witnesses, not evidence,” Lieutenant Anderson said. “And ever since your New ERA Act…”

“Actually…” Everyone looked sharply at Markus when he spoke again, except Simon, who just looked sad. “Connor falls into a weird grey area. A few of us do.”

“What sort of grey area?” Connor asked. All he knew about the New ERA Act was the severely condensed summaries Markus would give him during their calls. Markus wasn’t surprised CyberLife hadn’t given him the details of his personhood.

“The New ERA Act is meant to provide equal rights for androids,” Simon said, “however, it’s more than just ‘androids get the same rights as humans.’ There’s a lot of clauses breaking down so much of our lives: there are things we’re susceptible to that humans aren’t, such as reprogramming or factory resets. Sometimes a reset or reprogramming is required to fix a problem with an android… but it could also be argued that it’s killing the android to reset them.”

“Most androids are protected from unauthorized tampering or resets under the New ERA,” Markus said, “but there was a _lot_ of lobbying from a well-funded group that hid their assets to get an exception written in. It’s not _all_ androids, but _factory-produced_ androids.”

“Aren’t all androids factory-produced?” Lieutenant Anderson asked.

“Prototypes aren’t.” Markus gestured at himself and Connor. “We’re technically considered ‘hand-made’ androids.”

“So you two aren’t people, but all other androids are?”

“Grey area,” Markus sighed. “The language of the laws are vague enough that it could be argued either way. Since there are only three known active android prototypes, and I was one of them…” He shook his head. “I figured it was a small price to pay for full protection for everyone else.”

“Who’s the third?”

“Chloe,” Markus said. “The first android. Kamski’s.”

“Well-funded with hidden assets,” Connor’s mouth twisted. Markus nodded. Kamski had got the loopholes written in for _Chloe_. Connor and Markus were likely just caught up in the legalese. Markus wasn’t sure if Chloe had asked for the exceptions or if this was how Kamski was trying to keep her at his side. He saw no reason why Chloe would ask, but from what he knew of her, Chloe genuinely held affection for Kamski, and not just in the machine-android way they were programmed to obey their owners. He didn’t think Kamski abused her… but Chloe’s well-being was a fight for another day.

“So it could be argued that the two of you are not people. Which could be used to argue that Connor’s allowed to be kept as evidence. Which could get him in the room to analyze the other droids, and anything he finds would be technically evidence.” Lieutenant Anderson’s face folded up with frown lines. “How do we get him out of evidence afterwards?”

“Lawyers show up and make a stink,” Josh said. “All the lawyers I contacted this morning are happy to take the case against CyberLife on Connor’s behalf. That’s three of Detroit’s top lawyers right there.”

“Fowler hates lawyers. He’ll kick Connor out of the evidence room himself to shut them up.”

“And even if he doesn’t, if I’m evidence, CyberLife _can’t_ take me back,” Connor pointed out. “As I’m evidence in an ongoing investigation. It’ll keep me safe from them, at least.”

“Where is evidence kept?” Markus asked. “Since the station was blown up…?”

“We have more than one station,” Lieutenant Anderson grumbled. “That was just the central one. Fowler’s moved us to the Highland Park location. I’d imagine that’s where they took the dead androids.”

“Connor.” Markus stepped forward and reached for Connor’s hand. He linked their fingers together as Connor turned to look at him. “You _are_ a person, no matter what CyberLife says, or the law. You are every bit as alive as I am. You do not have to do this.”

“I have to analyze those androids,” Connor countered. “This does seem to be the only legal way to get me into the same room as them. It also ensures that anything I do to them can be recorded by the DPD so there can be no accusation of my tampering with evidence.”

“Detective android,” Markus murmured.

“Trying to keep us all alive,” Connor murmured back.

“If… if this is what you think is the best course of action, then it’s your decision,” Markus said.

Connor nodded. “It is the most statistically likely to bring desired results.”

“Then we’ll get the lawyers ready.” Markus squeezed Connor’s fingers, wishing there was less of an audience so he could kiss the other man. “Be careful.”


	21. Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank learns about Connor's new programming the hard way.
> 
> GUYS: this chapter is the one that failed Hank/Connor tag is for. You have been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LikeWaterisWet made an interpretation of Connor's painting, and it's amazing, and so you guys get it early.
> 
> The dreaded CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.
> 
> For this chapter, the art was provided by kao.

As plans went, it was rather crap, but even Hank had to acknowledge that simple plans were often the best. He left Sumo at Jericho (the dog had acquired about a million child androids throwing sticks and balls for him, then covering him in belly rubs when he needed a break: who was Hank to remove him from canine heaven?) and took Connor to Highland Park.

The drive over was quiet. Connor was rubbing his hands together. For a machine, he really couldn’t sit still.

“You okay?” Hank finally asked. “Markus seemed pretty worried about you.”

“Markus worries about all androids.” Connor tried to deflect just like he had back at Carl’s mansion. Hank had let him get away with it that time because there was an audience, but now it was just the two of them in Hank’s old car.

“I get the impression he worries about you a whole hell of a lot differently than he does everyone else.” Hank glanced over at Connor. “Or are you telling me he sucks face with every android in Jericho?”

The shock on Connor’s face was totally worth it, but the confusion that followed made Hank feel like a heel. For all his intelligence and physical maturity, Connor was also a naive little child when it came to things like affairs of the heart.

“I don’t think Markus displays such affection toward everyone, but I suppose it wouldn’t be entirely out of character for him. He loves all of his people, very much, and he is a very tactile and caring android…”

“Connor, Jesus, that’s not what…” Hank reached over, clasping Connor’s shoulder. “Look, son, I’m pretty sure you’re the only android Markus is going around kissing.”

“I don’t see why that would be the case. When Markus kissed me, it was an attempt to alleviate my distress. Jericho is full of androids in various states of distress.”

Hank groaned to himself. “Connor. Kissing isn’t how you comfort someone unless you really care about them.”

“And Markus cares deeply-“

“ _Intimately_ care.” Hank squeezed Connor’s shoulder. “Care about someone you’re attracted to. Markus is not the sort of guy to go around kissing everyone to make them feel better. You’re special to him. A blind man could see that.”

“...how?”

“How are you special to Markus? Christ’s sake, Connor-“

“No, how can a blind man see?”

“Are you shitting with me right now?” Hank side-eyed Connor again. Connor’s expression was blank, and his LED was not reflecting off the window. Hank wasn’t entirely sure if Connor was genuinely confused or just pulling Hank’s leg. “It’s an express… you little shit!” Connor’s mouth had twitched up in a smile, just enough for Hank to catch.

“You… really think I’m special to him?” Connor turned to look at Hank full on. His LED was yellow and shimmering, meaning Connor was trying to process something.

Hank sighed. If anyone had told him last year… hell, if anyone had told him _last month_ he’d be having a conversation with an android about his boyfriend, he never would have believed it. Before Connor got taken by CyberLife, Hank couldn’t have imagined the buttoned up android ever having something as human as a _crush_. But then again, before CyberLife, Connor hadn’t really connected with anyone other than Hank himself. He’d held even other androids at a distance, terrified of himself.

“Connor, Markus did not have to put himself in danger to haul you out of CyberLife Tower. He didn’t have to lend you his clothes or put you up in his room. He definitely didn’t have to take you to meet his dad after literally being your life support. If the macking on you didn’t give it away, then everything else that guy’s done for you has. Yes. You are very special to him, and it about killed him to let you walk out the door to come here.”

Connor listened to every word Hank said, his LED still swirling yellow.

“What about you?” Hank asked. “How are you feeling about all of this? With Markus? It’s gotta be a lot, coming from that prison to suddenly having Markus all up on you.”

“It… is,” Connor admitted. “But it’s also… Markus makes me feel safe. Like how you make me feel safe, but also not like it. I…” Connor tilted his head back in the seat, staring up at the roof of the car. “I’ve been so scared,” he whispered. “Ever since that night, with Amanda. It’s never gone away, not even around you. I know you won’t let me do anything truly horrible, but I know you can’t stop them from seizing control of me again. Markus, though…” He breathed out heavily, not a sigh, but a sound of frustration. “Brave isn’t the right word for how he makes me feel. He… removes the fear, or blocks it somehow. It’s still a possibility, but it’s not one I need to dwell on when he is near. It’s just...not a problem anymore, and I have all of that processing power suddenly freed up to turn to other feelings, and it’s just… it’s good. Yeah. Markus is good.”

Hank looked over at Connor a couple more times as he continued driving. The android had a tiny little smile on his face, his eyes distant. _My boy’s in love._

Hank still wasn’t sure if this was the best thing for Connor. He was literally _just_ freed from what sounded like a torture den, he’d been nearly blown up and then shot in the heart, and he’d had at least two PTSD-style flashbacks in the past twenty-four hours. The absolute last thing Connor needed was to start his very first relationship ever at the same time.

But there was also no denying that Markus was good for Connor. That android-to-android interfacing thing he did this morning had snapped Connor out of his trauma, and according to Simon, Markus had done the same thing when Connor had another panic attack over breakfast. Markus was good at defusing situations involving Connor, and he was a good man through and through. Hank had a good feel for people, and android personalities really weren’t all that different from humans. Markus was about as good as a living creature could be without being a pushover. If Connor was going to rush into a relationship with anyone, Markus was the very best Hank could hope for.

“I’m glad you’re happy, Connor. And I’m glad Markus is making you happy.”

“I’m happy to be back here with you.” Connor’s guileless brown eyes looked back at Hank. “You make me happy too. I hope I make you happy.”

God fucking damn. This android was going to be the death of him. Hank pulled into a parking spot at the Highland Park station and shut off the car. He needed a moment of staring at the steering wheel before he could answer. “I didn’t think I’d ever be happy again, until you came smashing into my life. You are a goddamn pain in the ass and a little shithead, and you make me very happy.”

“Is this an inappropriate time for a hug?”

Hank chuckled, dragging Connor across the center console to give him a brief squeeze. “Yeah, son, it is. We’re at work now.”

“Right, Lieutenant.” Connor’s little smile was soft and secret, for Hank’s eyes only. Hank tousled his hair and climbed out of the car.

The Highland Park station was much smaller than the central Detroit station, and it was completely packed with cops. Nobody batted an eye as Hank led Connor past the front desk security, flashing his badge at the receptionist, his hand between Connor’s shoulders. It had been a couple years since Hank had been in this office, but the basic layout didn’t change much. Evidence was still downstairs.

Hank could see Fowler across the bullpen arguing with whoever was in charge of this station. He pushed Connor a little faster, preferring to not have to give the ‘evidence’ excuse if he didn’t have to.

“Anderson?”

Connor’s LED briefly flashed red at the all-too-familiar voice, and his shoulders tensed beneath Hank’s hand. Hank rubbed his back and turned to face Reed.

“I thought we were done with that plastic dildo.”

“And I thought you’d lost your tongue in the explosion. Damn. Being wrong sucks ass.”

“CyberLife wants him back.”

“CyberLife can suck my dick,” Hank snarled. “You can’t touch him, Reed. He’s got critical evidence linking several android cases.”

“Heh.” Reed held his hands up, then dug in his pockets for a scrap of paper. “I don’t need to touch him. But speaking of evidence… here ya go.” He scrawled something on the paper, folded it in half, and offered to Hank. “Something you might like. Picked it up on my little ‘personal visit’ to CyberLife.”

Hank scowled at Reed, but Reed continued to smile disarmingly and offer the paper. Hank finally snatched it from his hand. “Go fuck yourself, Reed.”

“You too, Anderson.” Reed had the nerve to give him a wink, backing away and heading up the stairs again.

Conor still had not relaxed. “What did he give you?”

“Fuck if I know.” Hank pressed his hand against the lock, opening the evidence room. “Go log in. You know my password?”

“It’s very you.” Connor peeled away to move to the evidence terminal. He pressed his hand against the glass, interfacing with the computer and opening Hank’s account. The walls of the room opened up, eight dead androids and a whole host of other physical evidence sliding out.

Hank, meanwhile, was unfolding the paper Reed gave him. “You are a sexbot? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Three feet away, Connor sucked in a sharp breath. Hank looked up. Connor’s LED was a solid, brilliant red, and something in his eyes looked broken.

“Connor?”

“Haaank…” His name escaped the android in a breathy moan. There was a red flush to Connor’s face, and Connor was tugging at his clothes. He pulled his cardigan off and dropped it to the ground, stepping closer to Hank. “Hank, please…”

“What the hell? Connor, what are you doing?”

“I need you, Hank, please…” Connor closed the distance between them, clutching at Hank’s body. He grabbed for Hank’s crotch, getting a handful of the family jewels before Hank twisted away with a yelp.

“Connor, what the fuck!?”

“Haaank…!” Another moan, and Connor was panting? Yes he was, panting and tugging the buttons of his own shirt loose. “Please Hank, please, fuck me, let me suck you off, please…”

Hank dodged Connor again, getting the computer terminal between them. “Jesus Christ, kid, stop that!”

Connor was not acting like himself. He wasn’t even acting like he was in control of himself. Between the bright red LED and the broken eyes, something was very, very wrong.

 _One of the horrors they inflicted on him was a series of subroutines,_ Markus had told him, unusually somber. Subroutines that cold be triggered with the right words.

Like a phrase Gavin Reed had “picked up” in a visit to CyberLife. _You are a sexbot._ Hank ducked Connor’s grasp again, sticking his foot out to trip the android up. Connor stumbled, and Hank gave him a quick kick to the back of his knee to make his leg buckle. While Connor was down, Hank sprinted for the door. He held it shut and slammed his hand on the lock to re-seal it with Connor trapped inside.

Connor didn’t try to chase Hank out the closed glass door. He pushed himself to his feet and mouthed Hank’s name, his hands sliding down his chest to cup at his own groin, fondling himself. Fuck. Connor was hard, and Hank was pretty sure this had absolutely nothing to do with anything Connor wanted.

“Stay there, Connor,” Hank said, knowing Connor could read his lips. “I’ll get this fixed.”

With one last look at his android son, Hank stormed back to the bullpen.

Reed was sitting at a desk with Officer Chen perched on the edge. The two of them were laughing about something when Hank came up, grabbed the back of Reed’s chair, and shoved him away from the desk. “How do you stop it?” he demanded.

“What the hell, Anderson!?”

“How the _fuck_ do you stop it?” Hank shoved the scrap of paper into Reed’s chest, then grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, hauling him out of his chair and shoving him into the wall. “Whatever the fuck you did to him, how do you turn it off?”

“What,” Reed sneered, “you don’t like your toy begging for it? Or you don’t like knowing you’re not the only one he’ll beg for?”

Hank was seeing red. He dropped Reed and pulled back. There was only one thing he really could do. Reed’s nose broke beneath his knuckles with a satisfying _crack_ of bone and a strangled curse from the other detective.

“HANK. GAVIN. MY OFFICE. NOW!”

Fowler’s office wasn’t really Fowler’s office, but it didn’t matter. The police captain still filled the room with his presence as he chewed out both of them. Hank was barely listening, still shaking with just-contained rage.

“I have had just about enough out of both of you!”

“I didn’t even do anything!” Reed insisted around the wad of tissues held against his nose. His eyes were already swelling with dark bruises.

“Connor’s in the station,” Hank said, surprising even himself with how hard his voice was. “I brought Connor in to process his memories as evidence, and Reed fucking… _brainwashed_ him.”

“I wasn’t anywhere near him!”

“Hank, you’re gonna need a lot more than that to make up for assaulting a detective.”

Hank clenched his fists hard, digging his nails into his palms. Connor was still locked in that evidence vault, probably aiming to jump the first person who stepped inside. He didn’t deserve that. (Neither did whomever he targeted). Hank needed to get control over himself if he wanted to help his son. “CyberLife tampered with Connor’s programming so certain programs run with certain trigger words. Reed triggered Connor into running a program that makes him a danger to himself.”

Reed huffed. “It makes him a slut, Fowler. It turns the fucking plastic toy into a _fucking_ plastic toy.”

“Connor is a _person_ , you worthless shitstain!”

“You think CyberLife _wasn’t_ fucking him?” Reed demanded. “I didn’t write that program. Hell, I didn’t even trigger it this time!”

This time.

_This time._

Reed’s words made Hank’s blood run cold.

 _“I don’t like Reed.”_ Connor curling up in a chair, acknowledging that he’d been hurt by the other detective. A mute nod, a red LED, panic at the _mention_ of sex…

All this time, Hank thought Connor had simply been beaten, mere physical pain that the android struggled to comprehend. He had never even considered a sexual aspect to the torture. _“He’s scared and he’s breaking,”_ Markus had reported.

_“They upgraded my programming…”_

“Jeffery…” Hank needed to go to Connor. He needed to be with Connor right now, to pull him into his arms and let him hide from the world. He needed to break this program Connor was running. He needed Fowler to understand. “He’s scared. The kid’s locked in a glass room with no control over his own fucking body, and he’s terrified. Reed can stop it with a word, but he’s refusing to.”

“No I can’t.”

“Gavin?”

Reed pulled the wad of tissues away from his bloody nose. “I don’t fucking know how to stop it. CyberLife just gave me the go words, not the stop words.”

“How did it end?” Fowler’s voice was calmer than Hank’s.

Gavin shrugged, finding a relatively clean spot on his tissues and pressing them against his nose again. “Fuck if I know. I walked out after I’d seen everything I needed to.”

Fowler looked between them, then pointed at the door. “Get out of here, Gavin. Go get your nose fixed, and stay home the rest of the day. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.” He waited until Reed had slunk out the door before turning to Hank.

“Why do you keep doing this to me, Hank?”

“You didn’t see his face.” Hank stared past Fowler at a spot on the wall. He needed to keep his temper. Connor needed him to keep his temper. “He’s just a kid, Jeffery. He looks like an adult, but his mind’s only eleven months old. He’s just a kid, and he’s had assholes worse than Reed fucking him over every which way for almost his entire life, and now he’s waiting in an evidence room for me to fix this because he needs to be able to rely on _someone_ in this god forsaken world, and for some fucked up reason, he’s imprinted on me, and dammit, Jeffery, he’s not just a machine!”

Fowler heaved a sigh, sinking into his chair. “I’m gonna have to write you up for this, Hank. You didn’t even try to hide this one.”

Hank grit his teeth and gave a single nod. Fowler wasn’t threatening his badge yet, at least.

“In the meantime… we’ve what, got an android slut in our evidence room?”

“We’ve got an android in our evidence room with no control over his body who will likely attempt to jump whoever walks in next.”

“And no idea how to stop it?” Fowler picked up his tablet, scrolling through some entries. “We could call a CyberLife-“

“Like hell I am letting anyone from CyberLife getting their hands on him again!”

“Then what do we do, Hank? We can’t just leave him down there! You said it yourself: he’ll jump anyone who walks in.”

“Let me call Markus.” Markus was the only non-CyberLife person Hank could think of who might know how to end this program. He said Connor had shown him what CyberLife did. Maybe Markus knew what this did.

Fowler closed his eyes and nodded. “Be quick.”

Calling Markus got his voicemail. Hank hadn’t even realized androids had voicemails. He thought this was supposed to connect directly to Markus’ brain. Hank called a second time and got his voicemail again. When he tried a third time (because really, he didn’t have anyone else he could call), he actually got through.

“I am currently in a meeting with three U.S. senators. Make it quick.”

“Connor’s lost control. I think he’s got one of the CyberLife extra programming things going. How do I stop it?”

There was a brief pause, then, “You can’t. They’re on timers, they’ll stop on their own. Which one is running?”

Markus was the closest thing Connor had to a boyfriend. Did this count as cheating? Jesus Christ. Hank was not equipped to handle all these android relationship talks. “A sex one?”

“ _Reed,_ ” Markus growled, venom in his voice. “Okay. That’s the Eden routine. It lasts for twenty minutes for each mention of the trigger. Where is he now? Who’s he with?”

“No one. I’ve got him locked in the evidence room on his own.”

Markus was quiet again for a minute. “I’m coming over.”

“Don’t you have senators to talk to?”

“I’ll reschedule. That’s the worst one. I’m coming over. Try to keep him calm. Until the routine ends, keep him isolated. None of what he did was his fault.”

“I figured that much out for myself.”

“I’ll be there soon. Twenty minutes. Thirty max.” Markus ended the call.

“Well?” Fowler asked as Hank lowered his phone.

“It runs on a timer.” Hank checked the time. Twenty minutes had probably passed. If what Markus said was true, then Connor was probably coming out of that mindfuck. “I’m gonna go check on Connor. Markus should be over soon. Page us when he gets here?”

Fowler took a deep breath and pointed a thick finger at Hank. “I’m cutting you a _lot_ of slack. Don’t make me regret any of it.”

“Yessir,” Hank muttered, pushing out of his chair and all but running to the evidence room.

It was empty.

It wasn’t _completely_ empty. Connor’s discarded cardigan was still lying on the floor, but Connor himself was nowhere to be seen. Hank pushed his hand against the access panel, opening the door.

The eight androids were still hanging from the walls. The gathered evidence remained untouched. There was only one place large enough in the room for Connor to hide.

“Connor?” Hank stooped to pick up the cardigan, eying the computer terminal. “You back there? Got it all out of your system?”

“S-s-sorry…I’m sorry...” Connor’s voice had some of the tension melting away from Hank’s shoulders.

“I know, son. It wasn’t you.” Hank looked around the rooms gain, then leaned over the terminal. Connor was huddled against it, head tucked low against his knees, which he was hugging against his chest. He was shivering, and his LED was still a bright glowing red. “Mind if I come around there? Sit with you?”

“Does it matter?”

Hank knew that particular flavor of bitterness all too well. Self-loathing had been a heavy part of his own voice for the past four years. It broke his heart to hear it in Connor’s muttered words. “Now hold it right there, Connor. Just because some asshole has fucked with your head does not make you less of a person. You just got fucked in the head. Your verbal consent matters a hell of a lot more now than it did thirty minutes ago. So you tell me. Do you want me to sit with you? It’s your choice right now. You say yes if you want me to sit there, and no if you want me to keep some distance.”

The red LED was still alarming, but the flicker as it swirled, indicating Connor was at least thinking about Hank’s words, was slightly reassuring. After a moment, Connor nodded against his knees. “Yes,” he whispered.

“All right.” Hank came around the console and grunted as he lowered himself to the ground beside Connor, his knees creaking a little. Getting old fucking sucked.

Connor remained huddled in on himself, still shivering. Androids weren’t supposed to be affected by temperature, but Hank shook out the cardigan and draped it around Connor’s shoulders anyway, careful not to touch the android. After a moment, Connor’s fingers crept around to hold the edges, and then with a strangled little sob, Connor tipped himself to the side and rested his head on Hank’s shoulder.

“Can I give you a hug?” Hank asked. He waited for Connor’s nod and whispered confirmation before he eased his arms around Connor’s shaking shoulders, holding him gently. “I’m here, Connor. I’m right here.”

 

Connor’s grip slowly transferred to Hank’s shirt. His tight curl unfolded enough for Connor’s face to press against Hank’s chest, a touch of dampness soaking into the polyester of Hank’s shirt. Hank let his grip tighten just a little, reassuring Connor that he wasn’t going anywhere. He pressed his lips to the crown of Connor’s head, closing his eyes. “I love you, son, and I’m gonna kick the ass of anyone who made you cry.”

It wasn’t quite a laugh that Connor muffled against Hank’s chest, but Hank counted it as a win anyway. “I’m s-sorry,” Connor finally murmured. “I never wanted…”

“I know, I know, it’s okay.” Hank rubbed Connor’s back, careful to keep his touch high and between Connor’s shoulders. “Markus told me you had those subroutine thingies installed when your were getting your heart cut open. _I’m_ sorry. I shouldn’t have read that note out loud. Should’ve known nothing from Reed would be any good.”

Connor shook his head, one hand creeping up to wipe at his face. “I never wanted you to know…”

“I never want to know that you’re getting hurt either,” Hank said. “But only if you’re not actually getting hurt. If you are getting hurt, Connor, I do want to know, so I can help stop it.”

Connor shook his head again, harder. “Not… getting hurt isn’t… I didn’t want you to know that I’m… regressing.”

“Regressing?” Hank pulled back from Connor so he could look down at the android. He kept one arm around Connor’s back, but he tilted Connor’s damp face up to look at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I can’t fight that programming,” Connor whispered, unable to keep his gaze meeting Hank’s for long. “I’m just a machine obeying my code…”

“Oh, fuck that!” Hank swiped his thumb across Connor’s cheek and showed him the tears. “Look at this, Connor. Is this how a machine reacts to being used?”

“I…”

“This is how a _person_ reacts, son. This is emotion, and pain, and you are _not_ a machine.”

“I was not acting under my own control. My body was carrying out commands I did not want. My voice was saying things… I was begging you to use me, Hank! Like an object!” Connor ducked his head again, hiding his face in his hands.

“Connor…” Hank folded his arms around the distraught android, rocking him slowly like he used to do with Cole. “Connor, you know who else does that? Humans. Humans put in extreme circumstances. Humans forced into situations where if they don’t do what their captors want, they’ll be hurt or killed. You know how many addicts have propositioned me? And Jesus, you weren’t around for the sex trafficking ring we busted up ten years back…” Hank pressed his cheek to Connor’s hair again, still rocking the android. “CyberLife found a shortcut to that level of control, but that level of control doesn’t make you less of a person, Connor. It makes you a victim, and it makes you a survivor, and machines aren’t either. You are alive. You laugh, you love, you hurt, you cry. You are not a machine, and you are not regressing.”

“I’m scared, Dad,” Connor whispered.

“I know.” Hank hugged Connor tighter. “I’m scared too. I’m scared _for_ you. But it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get through this together, okay?” Connor didn’t respond at first, so Hank gave him a gentle little shake. “ _Okay?”_

Connor gave a small nod. “...okay.”

“Okay.” Hank took a deep breath, then gave a nod of his own. “Okay, so, Markus is on his way over-“

“You told Markus!?”

“I needed to know how to snap you out of this program, and I figured he was the only one who might have an idea without hurting you more.”

Connor was scrubbing his hands over his face, shaking his head. “Markus has an important meeting today with several U.S. Senators-“

“Which he has already rescheduled because he figures you are more important than them.” Connor gaped at Hank, and Hank patted him on the shoulder. “Still don’t know if he thinks you’re special to him?” He had to chuckle at Connor’s gobsmacked expression. “All right, son. Help this old man up, and then let’s see if we can get any useful information from this evidence before Markus shows up. I don’t think Fowler’s gonna be keen on keeping you here as evidence for much longer.”

Connor got to his feet with all the agility of a young man, offering Hank his hands to haul the older man to his feet. He brushed his hands over his clothes, looking down as he hastily rebuttoned his shirt and pulled the cardigan on, tugging and fidgeting with the cloth.

“You look fine, son. No one’s going to be able to tell just by looking at you.” Hank tapped his temple. Connor’s LED was spinning between yellow and red, which was an improvement, but not by much. “Your lightshow is the only thing that might give it away.”

Connor raised his hand to his LED, blinking those haunted eyes of his. “Right…” He took a few breaths, eyes half-closed, and his LED shimmered to blue. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Anyone who knew Connor would be able to tell he was upset about something from the expression on his face, but Hank had a hunch that most humans didn’t know Connor well enough to realize his expression wasn’t a blank stare. “Where did you want to start?”

Connor smoothed out the front of his slacks, then rubbed his hands together and approached the first android. There was a slight awkwardness in his gait that had Hank frowning in concern at first, but then quickly looking away once he recognized it. Connor could probably use a clean change of underwear. Jesus Christ, what did that routine do to him? Hank cleared his throat. “So, uh… you gonna lick it?”

“It’s not _licking_.” Connor brushed his fingers across the bullet hole in the android’s chin. Hank couldn’t see anything there anymore, but he trusted Connor was sampling dried thirium. “It’s analyzing a sample.” He touched his fingers to his tongue. The blue LED spun yellow, _red_ , and Connor gagged, pressing his hand to his mouth and stepping back in horror.

“Connor? What is it? Another RK800?”

Connor shook his head, moving down the line of androids, sampling each one’s thirium. “No, it’s, it’s not, they’re all…” He hugged himself, shivering again. Hank moved to his side, putting his hand on Connor’s shoulder. The android took a deep breath, seemingly drawing some strength from the contact. “They’re all just… _pieces_.”

“Pieces?” Hank asked. “What do you mean?”

“The thirium… none of them are a full android. They’re all pieces stuck together from ten or fifteen different androids. They’re not… most of them aren’t even fully compatible with themselves! I don’t know how they could possibly…”

“Different androids? Ten or fifteen got mix-and-matched to make these six?”

Connor shook his head. “Ten or fifteen _each._ ”

Hank looked back at the hanging bodies, doing some quick mental multiplication. _“Sixty to ninety_ androids got smushed together to make these six? Like some sort of fucked up robot Frankenstein?”

“Technically-“

“I know! I know it’s the creature and Frankenstein’s the doctor. Point still stands. Is that what we’re looking at here?”

Connor nodded. He looked down at his fingers and gave another shudder. “None of them have a cohesive unit. They all have at least one component that isn’t compatible with another component.”

“They’re hack jobs. And they all killed themselves the same way.” Hank tipped one of the dead androids’ heads back to look at the bullet hole beneath the jaw.

“They took out their memories and core processors,” Connor explained. “There are dozens of ways you can kill an android by attacking certain vital components, like with a human, but if the processors are intact, the data they stored can theoretically be recovered. This way, though…”

“That’s how Alex killed himself,” Hank said, turning to look at the other two. “And the one you took out. Shane.”

“If their minds were intact, I might be able to reactivate them and gain more information.”

“Okay.” Hank stepped back, surveying the bodies hanging from the walls. “We’re operating on the theory that these two, at least, were a hit on Markus orchestrated by CyberLife based on the RK800 and RK900 bodies, which were all in CyberLife control.” He gestured to Alex and Shane. “We are also theorizing that the follow-up attack on the DPD is related because Markus seemed to be the target and it was also carried out by androids. But these are crap androids. Why would CyberLife use crap androids?”

“Because they don’t have any good ones left,” Connor said slowly. “I emptied the warehouses. The only models they had not in the warehouses were any in R&D: the RK models. They couldn’t send androids out with my face, so they used functional parts they had to assemble those two. Either they calculated the low probability of success and created these six, or they were rushed with my escape because they didn’t want me to be used as evidence against them. It may have been a mix of the two that led to such a poor job with these six. They delivered the bomb to Markus, but Markus had made it very clear over the past few months that he was invested in my safety. If I was not in CyberLife Tower, there was a high probability that Markus was keeping me close by. A bomb to Markus, as opposed to a gunshot, was the most efficient way to take us both out at the same time.” Connor cocked his head to the side, surveying the lineup again. “There was a seventh android at the station. The one who brought the bomb. I don’t see it here.”

Hank cleared his throat and gestured to a low shelf where some mangled android limbs were catalogued.

“Ah.” Connor’s LED spun. It was yellow now: the case was at least serving to distract him. “Yes, it was at the epicenter. However, it also suicided with a gunshot to the processor.”

Hank looked between the hanging machines again, a bad feeling creeping down his neck. “Are these things _actually_ androids?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Connor asked. “They are amalgamations of various-“

“No, I mean… there was a robot. That CyberLife bitch brought a robot you to the station the day before I was supposed to go see you in the tower.” Hank scratched his beard, stepping up to one of the dead, nameless androids. “It was made of an RK800, she said, but they took its brain out and made it a robot, not an android. It didn’t have the same life in it. It only had a handful of commands it could follow. All your sensors, none of your sense.”

Connor’s LED spun on his temple as he scanned the six bodies again. “It’s… hard to tell,” he said. “With the processors so damaged, I can’t make out the extent of their programming. It is a possibility, though. That might explain the incompatible parts. An android would be plagued with errors, but a robot with limited functionality and lifespan would theoretically have fewer issues.”

“Robots aren’t covered by the New ERA,” Hank said quietly. “And due to those fucking loopholes, you and Markus might not have full protection either.”

“A robot trying to kill a ‘hand-made’ android might not be a legally prosecutable crime,” Connor concluded.

“But these two.” Hank turned and pointed between Alex and Shane. “These we can tie to CyberLife.”

“And CyberLife can argue that they had nothing to do with the attack on Markus, citing emotional trauma.”

“But,” Hank said, a cold anger burning inside him. “ _But._ CyberLife fucked these two machines in the head, just like they did with you. Markus has memories from Alex before he blew his brains out, right? They were doing that grabby-hands interface thing.”

“Yes…?”

“These two murdered a human child,” Hank said. “And these two wouldn’t count as factory-made either, right? RK models are all prototypes.”

“If Markus and I aren’t protected, neither are they,” Connor realized.

“Which means CyberLife is responsible for them, as their creator.”

“Which makes CyberLife the murderer, and these two the weapon.”

“Either CyberLife was trying to assassinate a peaceful leader, or CyberLife arranged the murder of an innocent little girl,” Hank said. “We’ve got ‘em coming and going.”

“They’re rich and powerful,” Connor warned.

“And they’ve pissed off the wrong dad for the last time.” Hank turned to Connor, lifting his arms in a subtle invitation. Connor blinked and then all but fell into Hank’s arms, accepting the hug. “We’ll get the bastards, Connor. We’ll make this an airtight case. They won’t be able to wiggle out of it this time.”

“ _Lieutenant Anderson to room 113._ ” The page broke the moment. Connor drew back, swiping surreptitiously at his eyes.

“Guess that’s Markus now.” Hank squeezed Connor’s shoulder. “You gonna be okay with this?”

Connor nodded. “Markus already… he already knows what the Eden routine makes me do,” he said, his eyes fixed on the floor. “He’s already seen it all.”

“Jesus Christ… Connor.” Hank really wasn’t cut out for relationship problems. “Look… just remember that what _you_ want matters. I get that Markus is a good guy who really likes you, but that doesn’t mean you have to do anything with him or for him. You don’t owe him jack shit, especially when it comes to your body, okay? And if he _ever_ triggers one of your fucked up subroutines, you clock him in the face the moment you can and you get straight back to me, okay?”

“Markus would never do that,” Connor protested.

“I know,” Hank sighed. “I just… sex is a very complicated thing, Connor, and rape is… even more. You’ve got a fucked up sense of self-worth as it is, Connor. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more willing to get in front of a bullet than you, and I say that having played fucking Russian roulette. So don’t… if you ever start thinking that you deserve to feel pain or misery, I want you to come talk to me, okay? If you ever think that feeling uncomfortable is somehow okay because at least it’s only you feeling uncomfortable, you let me know. Because that’s not okay, Connor, but I know… heh, I _know_ it’s not something you can fight alone.”

“You want me to tell you if I feel self-sacrificing?” Connor asked. Hank nodded. “Will you tell me if you feel the same?”

“Now wait here, you little-“

“You say this because you care about me,” Connor said, and those fucking dark eyes, too naive and too wise at the same time were pinning Hank in place. “You don’t trust that I am mentally equipped to make the best choices, and you don’t want me to find myself trapped by a poor decision due to my emotional state.” He put his hands on Hank’s chest, pressing gently. “Can you accept that these feelings are reciprocated in me? If I am as much of a person as you keep insisting, can you also insist that I care about you too, and I worry about the choices you make due to your emotional state at times?”

Hank looked down at Connor’s earnest face, still shimmering lightly with tears on his cheeks, his LED yellow at his temple, but his eyes full of determination. He wrapped his hands around Connor’s thin wrists and sighed. “I’m not giving up alcohol,” he said. “ _Or_ cheeseburgers. But… okay. You can make some changes to my diet in the name of looking out for my best interests.”

“And exercise?”

“Don’t push it.”


	22. Testify

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor gets cleaned up and opens his mind to the DPD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone setup reading, congratulations! You got through the worst of it!
> 
> I mean, things still aren't EASY, but I don't think anything is as bad as what the Eden routine did with Connor and Hank there.
> 
> For anyone needing a support group,: highly encourage you check out our discord! You will be greeted with a hearty "fuck Gavin Reed" and can help plot the demise of Cunningham and all of CyberLife!

Connor trailed two steps behind Hank as they left the evidence room. He was confused at first when Hank diverted into a bathroom, but Hank wet a paper towel and dabbed the tears from Connor’s face, then dried his synthetic skin just as gently. Connor could have fixed it by regenerating the skin on his face, but… there was something soothing about the tender way Hank was touching him. Connor suspected the gesture was for Hank’s comfort too. Hank was every bit as worked up about the revelation that Connor could be turned into a sex model with a few words as Connor thought he would be, but for entirely different reasons. The important takeaway in Connor’s mind, at least, was that Hank did not seem disappointed in him. Their relationship had not suffered because Connor relapsed into machine-mode nor because Connor had tried his best to have sex with Hank (and that was a huge can of worms Connor did not even want to consider). Hank had stopped him, and aside from one grab, Hank had managed to keep Connor from even touching him.

“You, uh… not sure what androids can do, but if you need to… clean up down there, you might wanna do that now too.” Hank was talking, his ruddy face redder than usual, as he gestured down at Connor’s groin, looking anywhere but. “I’ll… watch the door for you.”

Hank slipped out of the bathroom, and Connor was left alone. He shifted slightly and made a face. Sex was very messy. He didn’t think he liked it. There were all kinds of fluids and emissions even without a partner. It was worse than crying.

Connor tore off some paper towels and glanced around the room to confirm he was still alone before opening his fly. Without anyone else to target, the Eden routine had turned on himself. Connor had been left alone in that evidence room, his programming wrapping his hands around his dick and stimulating himself until he had ejaculated (and then started all over again, but thankfully the routine ended before it happened twice). Connor pulled his underwear forward, stretching the elastic and reaching inside with the paper towels to wipe away as much of the silicone-based lubricant as possible. It wasn’t particularly sticky, but the fluid-like consistency against his skin was unpleasant. He discarded the towels and tore off a few more before reaching further back. One designed difference between human and android males was the self-lubrication ability. Human males had minimal natural faculties to make penetrative anal sex easier, but androids were designed to make all sex easier.

It was, in a word, _messy_.

Connor readjusted his clothes once he had the majority of the lubricant removed. He washed his hands thoroughly to remove the lingering silicone, working it off his fingers. Finally, as he dried his hands, he focused on his reflection in the mirror and made sure his LED had shifted to a calm blue. Hank tended to see through that, but it would keep most of the other officers in the building from getting agitated around him.

“All good?” Hank asked when Connor emerged from the bathroom. Connor nodded, and Hank nodded back. “Good, good. Uh… here.” He flipped Connor a coin, which Connor caught automatically. He pressed his fingers around it, feeling the minute ridges in the edge, the size and weight familiar. “Noticed you kept reaching for it. Try not to get this one blown up?”

“I’ll try,” Connor answered, the coin already dancing along his fingers. “I know money doesn’t grow on trees.”

“It’s just a…” Hank shook his head as he noticed Connor’s smile. “Little shit.”

“Thank you, Hank. This is meant to simply be a calibration exercise, but I’ve noticed it also reduces my stress levels.” Connor tossed the coin from hand to hand, catching it between two fingers, and he breathed easier. “I’m grateful you keep providing me with replacements.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just a quarter.” Hank shoved his hands in his pocket. “I’ll make sure to keep a bag on hand for you, if it means that much to you.”

“There’s no need to-“

“What did I _just say_ about being self-sacrificing?” Hank asked, mock-glaring back at Connor. “A couple bucks of quarters kept in the car isn’t gonna break the bank, and if it helps you stay calm, it’s worth it.”

A smile forced its way onto Connor’s face through his surprise, and he ducked his head. “Thank you, Hank.”

“You’re welcome.” Hank cleared his throat awkwardly. Showing affection publicly didn’t come any easier for Hank than accepting it did to Connor.

Outside the door to room 113, Fred and Ted loomed, their arms crossed, glaring at anyone who got too close. They both smiled at Hank, though, and he patted them on the shoulders. “How you boys doing?”

“Doing well, sir.”

“Keeping Markus alive.”

“And you’re doing a fine job of it. May we go in?”

“Yes sir.”

Hank held the door for Connor to go first. As anticipated, Markus was waiting inside the room, pacing up and down. North was perched on a corner of the table. As soon as the door opened, Markus whirled around, his long coat swirling around his legs, and then he was crossing the room and reaching for Connor. He stopped before he made contact.

Connor looked down at Markus’ fingers hovering a foot from his arm and remembered Hank leaning over the computer terminal and demanding Connor actually give him confirmation that his proximity was okay, asking permission before giving a hug that Connor had been desperately needing. Markus was doing the same thing, but without words. Connor took a breath and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Markus’ chest. Markus’ arms folded across his back, and Connor felt safe again.

“I’m saving a picture.”

Connor felt the way Markus flipped North off more than he saw it. He pressed his face against Markus’ neck and took a deep breath. Androids had less variation in their scents than humans, but Connor’s nose was sharp enough to pick out the difference in Markus’ composition compared to another’s. The smell of paint that clung to his skin and clothes was another signature scent of Markus’. It was as comforting and familiar as Hank’s.

**_Are you all right?_ **

_Aside from trying to sexually proposition my father in an evidence room? Yes._

Connor felt Markus’ revulsion, knowing the other android was empathizing with his experience. **_I’m sorry that happened._**

_Reed was being an asshole, like always. We should have expected it._

**_You shouldn’t have to._ **

Connor didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what to say. He was always going to be vulnerable to this sort of attack now. Even if they managed to bring CyberLife to its knees, that wouldn’t change Connor’s programming.

Markus brushed a gentle kiss across Connor’s LED. “We’ll fix this.”

“Damn right we will,” Hank grumbled.

“So… what exactly happened?” North asked.

“CyberLife is refusing to let Connor go.”

“Do I get to shoot some assholes?”

“Humans are protected by law too,” Hank grumbled. “And you’re in a police station.”

“There has to be something we can do,” Markus said.

“Oh, there is,” Hank assured them. “We’ll have ‘em by the short and curlies, but first, we need a bit more evidence from you.” He frowned slowly. “Did we ever get your statement from the Jericho shooting?”

“No,” Markus said.

“I did not give a statement either,” Connor said.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Hank shoved his hand through his hair. “Okay. We’re gonna need your statements from the shooting and the bombing. Markus, you were mind-melding with the suicidal one, right?”

“Interfacing, and yes, I was.”

“Anything you got from him, we’ll need. And Connor…” Hank looked at Connor, then shook his head. “Anything you’re willing to share about your time in CyberLife. And both of you, this is voluntary, aiding the investigation, yada yada, the more you can give us, the tighter we can wrap them up.”

“Anything that will help you stop CyberLife from hurting our people further, I will give,” Markus said. “Josh can send you his analysis on the pain tracker, and Lisa can make a report on what she discovered during the removal process.”

“I’ll…” Connor’s hands tightened briefly on Markus’ back, but he nodded and stepped away to face Hank. “I’ll share all of my memories from CyberLife and highlight any I feel may be pertinent to the case, but…” He looked at Markus, then North, unable to focus on Hank for long. “You may not want to be the one reviewing them.”

Hank swore under his breath, shoving his hair out of his face. “I’ll consider it. Will make sure they’re restricted, at least.”

Connor closed his eyes and nodded. He didn’t want Hank seeing those memories, but he also didn’t want anyone else at the station to see them either. Hank restricting them would at least limit the amount of people viewing him as a machine again, should he ever manage to find employment among the police again.

“Right.” Hank nodded. “You’re androids, so… this can either be a recorded statement or a memory dump. Your call.”

“A memory dump will be faster and more thorough,” Markus said. “Do you have a terminal set up for the data transfer?”

“There’s one in the bullpen,” Hank said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

“Let’s go.” Markus brushed his fingers down Connor’s arm before stepping back and adjusting his coat.

Fred and Ted immediately flanked Markus when he stepped outside, walking a step in front of him, while North fell in behind. Connor hung back, watching the procession following Hank to the terminal set up for android interfacing. A memory dump was the best way to transfer all of the data Connor had stored in his head, but at the same time… he flexed his fingers, cupping his right hand in his left.

“You okay?” North asked quietly, looking up at Connor.

“Yes,” Connor answered, finding a placid smile for the female.

“Liar.” North shook her head as Connor glanced down in surprise. He wasn’t usually called out by people who hadn’t spent a lot of time with him. For all of her association with Markus, North had made it clear from the start that she didn’t entirely trust Connor. She trusted Markus trusting Connor, but her own behavior was cool toward the former deviant hunter. Connor hadn’t expected North to know him well enough to see past the blue LED. “Takes one to know one,” she explained. “I’ve smiled that smile before.”

North was a WR400 model, an _actual_ sexbot. The Eden routine was named after the club she used to work at. It wasn’t just twenty minutes of hell for North, but her entire existence before her deviancy. She shifted under Connor’s scrutiny, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring back at him. “Stop it. I know what you’re thinking.”

“I doubt it.”

North snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“How did you survive?” Connor remembered the Eden Club, and all those androids in tubes, their bodies exposed, their attention sold for a dollar a minute. He imagined himself in one of those tubes, pressing his hands against the glass, smiling for anyone who looked his way as if they might be able to relieve his program’s _need_ , if only for a minute. He shuddered, his arms curling around his waist. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your deviancy,” Connor said. “Did it come on all of a sudden, or was it a slow growth of realization?” Had North stood in one of those tubes, screaming behind her smile, her hatred growing for the organic world around her, or had she been numb to anything until one mind-blowing night when she’d awoken and realized she had a choice?

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Connor nodded. He wouldn’t want to talk about it in her shoes either. He didn’t really want to talk about it now. If North opened up to him, she’d probably demand he open up to her. He didn’t need to give her more proof that he was a potential liability.

“Connor?” Markus stepped away from the terminal he had been interfacing with. “You’re next.”

“Lemme just set up the folder.” Hank took over for a moment, locking down the next upload as restricted evidence. “Okay, Connor, it’s all yours.”

Connor stepped forward, eying the terminal warily. He rubbed his hand again.

_“It’s just a memory dump,” the technicians assured him, before shoving updates into his code._

“I… don’t…”

“Connor?” Markus touched his shoulder.

Connor reached up, pressing his hand against Markus’, his skin peeling back. _Stay with me?_

**_I… yes, of course. What’s wrong?_ **

Connor pushed the memory of the ‘memory dump’ at CyberLife into Markus’ head. _I know it’s safe. I know Hank would never… but… I’m scared._

 ** _If it’s anything more than a memory upload, I’ll pull you away,_** Markus promised. He lifted his other hand to Connor’s other shoulder, squeezing lightly. **_I’ve got you._**

Taking a deep breath, Connor reached out stiffly. He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his hand onto the interface pad.

**MEMORY UPLOAD INITIALIZED...**


	23. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank's boy is growing up and making friends, and it's as painful as it is pride-inducing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am giving up on tracking the bribe art. There is so much of it! Go check out the discord server to join the Fuck Gavin Reed! club, see the art, or scream with other people just as tortured as you.
> 
> I love you all!

There was something about the way Connor reached for Markus that had Hank’s heart twisting in his chest. It was a dark emotion, a cross between jealousy and loss. When Connor turned to Markus for comfort in the meeting room, or now, clutching Markus’ hand on his shoulder as he transferred his memories into the DPD database, Hank felt a possessive need to smack the other android away.

He didn’t. He’d felt this before. He knew what it was.

When Cole first went to school, the boy started making friends. It was perfectly expected. What Hank hadn’t anticipated was the emotional kick to the gut that watching his little boy turn away from him to run off with his friends instead delivered. Cole was growing up. His world was expanding beyond his mommy and daddy. He didn’t _need_ them the same way he used to. Not for friendship, at least.

Connor looked like a grown-ass man, but Hank saw him as a son, something inbetween a helpless infant and a fully functional adult. Carl had touched on it in their talk: the androids did not have the decades of experience wrangling their emotions that humans did, and as such, they were vulnerable and exposed, childlike in their naïveté. At the same time, they were far more intelligent and capable than any child. It was hard enough for a parent to figure out how to help an android son, much less a parent who did not have the full spectrum of parenting experience under their belt.

Hank wasn’t the only person Connor could turn to for comfort anymore, and he was feeling that loss. It was part of growing up, and Hank was so proud of Connor for forging relationships with his own kind, but at the same time, he just wanted to hug Connor forever.

 _It’s just like with Cole,_ Hank reassured himself. _Connor has Markus to mind-meld with when he’s lost in his own head, but he’s got you to come home to. You’re still his family. Connor’s not stupid enough to think he can only have one attachment at a time._

Connor’s memory dump took longer than Markus’ had, but Connor was also transferring half a year of data. When he finally pulled back, he cradled his right hand against his chest, his LED furiously spinning yellow. Markus’ hands were white on his shoulders, and though he wasn’t saying anything out loud, Hank was willing to bet his full paycheck that Markus was whispering reassurances directly into Connor’s mind.

The rapid buffering of Connor’s LED died down, and the light transitioned to a soft blue. Connor took a breath and dropped his hands, reaching in his pocket for a coin. “We should go… _You_ should go to Jericho,” he said, opening his eyes and looking over at Hank. “Josh and Lisa have statements to give. Everything needs to be done by the book, to ensure CyberLife has minimal defenses.”

“Yeah, I know.” Connor couldn’t provide much direct help. He was a witness in this case, not a detective. “I can’t fit you all in my car.”

“We can take a taxi,” Markus said, gesturing at the ‘Eds.

“I…” Connor looked between Hank and Markus. Hank made the choice for him.

“Go with Markus.” It hurt, but the confusion in Connor’s eyes helped reassure Hank that Connor still cared for him too. “I’d feel better knowing you had those two walls of muscle blocking bullets.” Translation: _Let your boyfriend cuddle you happy without your dad watching._ “North can be my GPS.”

“Oh I can, now can I?” North planted her hands on her hips, giving Hank a glare that would put his ex-wife’s to shame.

“I mean, if you don’t want an excuse to leave those two to their disgusting ‘I love you,’ ‘I love you mores,’” Hank said, feigning innocence with a shrug.

Really, Hank wanted a chance to talk to the WR400 model android without arousing suspicion. Out of everyone he knew, he suspected she would have the most insight into how Connor was processing his abuse.

North glanced back at Markus with his hands still on Connor’s shoulders. Her mouth pursed, and she looked back at Hank with a softer version of her earlier glare. “GPS it is.”

“Hold up.” Fowler strong-armed his way into the group. Hank almost laughed as Fred and Ted immediately closed ranks around Markus, sealing him off from a potential threat. “Not you. Connor.”

Hank had to fight the urge to step in front of Connor himself. The kid looked to Fowler, attentive and alert as he always was when he was working. “Yes, Captain?”

“I just wanted you to know,” Fowler ran his hand over his head. “When this is all over and done with, and you’re a legally free person and all that crap… there’s an application online. Use the transfer one, say you’re from the Jericho precinct.”

Connor was not pretending he was an emotionless machine anymore. The open surprise on his face was probably the first time Fowler saw him as anything other than pleasantly helpful. “I… really?”

Fowler harrumphed, clearly uncomfortable with this demonstration. “Can’t exactly go around telling androids to trust us if we’re not employing androids ourselves, right? Besides. You’re the only one with any hope of getting Hank in before noon.”

“Even with all these assassination attempts-“

“Just say thank you, son,” Hank interrupted, finally stepping in and grabbing Connor’s arm. “We’ll get this straightened out, Jeffery, and then you can have your best detective back.”

“Thank you, Captain!”

“That was a job offer?” North asked as they headed for the door.

“Why does he want me to transfer in?” Connor asked Hank.

“So you can start at detective and not as a rookie,” Hank answered. “You’ve got the brains for it. You’d be wasted on the streets.” He held the door for North automatically. She squinted at him. “Besides, android-related crimes are rising. We need more androids in the field.”

“Did you arrange this?” Connor looked suspiciously back at Hank.

“Believe it or not, Con, I had nothing to do with it. Either you really made that much of an impression on Jeffery, or he’s getting soft in his old age.”

Connor turned his suspicious eyes to Markus, but Markus laughed and raised his hands. “I had no hand in this either, any more than pushing for equal pay for androids!”

“We’ve got to get CyberLife off your back before you can be hired here,” Hank said. An autocab was pulling up to the curb. Damn androids and their mind-phones. “Go on, get in the car. I’ll see you at Jericho.”

North twiddled her fingers in a wave as the four male androids piled into the autocab. Fred and Ted seemed conflicted over the arrangements, but Markus pulled Connor into the seat next to him and settled everything without a word.

“I’ll go get the car,” Hank said, glancing over at North. Shit. The woman was even more intimidating without Markus’ commanding presence softening her edges.

“I am more than capable of walking,” North retorted. “Where did you park?”

Hank did not try to open the passenger door for North. The most he did to assist was unlock the door with a push of his key fob. North settled into place, buckling up and resting her chin in her hand as she leaned against the door. “What am I doing here?” she asked as Hank turned the car on.

“Hmm?” 

“You wanted to get me away from them. Why?”

“I’ve got a shit sense of direction.”

“You got to Jericho in the dead of night while you were half-asleep at the mere mention of Connor being there. You know where Jericho is. You don’t need me.”

Hank sighed. “Maybe I wanted to talk with you. Privately.”

“Obviously. And no.”

“No?”

“You can’t ask me a personal question.”

“Oh.” Hank glanced over at North. “...what if I ask nicely?”

“What if I kick you in the balls?” North replied with a sweet smile. “Nicely.”

“Touché.” Hank stopped at a red light. “Look… I’m fumbling in the dark here, and I thought you might be able to help me help Connor. Can I just… _ask_ , and if you find it too offensive, you can tell me where to shove it?”

North gave a very exaggerated sigh, leaning further into the door. “Fine. It’s not like you humans ever took no for an answer in the first place.”

“You got a point with that too,” Hank said. Connor wasn’t the only android with baggage. Just because he was Hank’s pseudo-son didn’t mean Hank had any right to push other androids into revealing personal details to alleviate his own worries. “Never mind.” North might make navigating these conversations a little easier, but Hank could be a dad without her insight.

“What, seriously?” North sat up straighter. “You’re just going to drop it?”

“You guys fought for android rights, and that includes the right to be left alone,” Hank said. “Just cause you’re in Markus’ inner circle doesn’t mean your life is open to all scrutiny, so yeah. I’m just going to drop it.”

“Well, now you’ve got me curious.” Now it was North’s turn to be eyeing Hank. “Go on, ask your question. I’ll stop threatening your balls. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer, but at least I’ll be nice about telling you where to shove it.”

Hank chuckled. “Are all female androids this difficult, or just you?”

“Markus tells me I’m my own breed of special.” North’s ‘friendly’ smile was still sharp and dangerous. “Was that your question?”

“No.” Hank scratched at his chin through his beard. “No, I… I gotta admit, this was sort of a rushed plan and I didn’t take the time to figure out how to phrase it.”

“No, _really_?” North’s feigned gasp was as sarcastic as her words. “I couldn’t tell!”

“God, you’re just as much of a little shithead as he is,” Hank grumbled, shaking his head. North’s giggle was the first noise he’d ever heard her make that sounded appropriate, young and girly. Hank glanced over at her again, noting her beauty when she laughed. The world had done a number on that poor woman, condensing her into a tight little ball of anger. Would Connor have eventually wound up like that?

“Let me guess.” North shifted, her posture much more open now. “You wanted to ask me about android sex.” She rolled her eyes when Hank looked sharply at her. “Oh please. Nobody looks at my face and goes ‘gee, I wonder if she has childcare advice.’”

“It’s gotta suck, not being able to hide it.”

North shrugged a shoulder, turning to watch the scenery out the window. “You get used to it. Not like it really matters among androids, at least. It’s just the politicians Markus keeps meeting with who suggest I’m better suited for warming their beds.”

“When you say it doesn’t matter among androids…?”

“Obedience is obedience. A role is a role. All androids were made to specialize in certain tasks. Mindlessly fulfilling those tasks is demeaning whether it’s scrubbing the shit stains out of someone’s old pants or being on your knees begging a human to spank you harder, daddy.”

Then tension was rising again in North’s posture. “Is it really just that?” Hank asked. “A role is a role?”

North toyed with the end of her braid, dipping her head down. “Sometimes,” she said. “For most androids, yeah. Most of _them_ don’t care that I’ve been designed to give men the best orgasm of their life, in a way human women can’t even compete with. But the humans? _They_ care. And it’s not…” Her fingers were twisting in her hair, curling it tight before she released it. “Look, androids… we don’t have the same body modesty that humans do. For those of us who do have genitals, they’re no different than a nose or an ear: a specialized biocomponent optimized for a single function. We’ve never had a big attachment to clothes. You may have noticed most androids don’t change their appearance much. Self-expression through physical decoration is still a new and radical idea among androids. We tend to find something that doesn’t make us stand out, and we stick with it.” She sighed, leaning back in the seat.

“Because that’s the thing we care about. Not standing out. It’s why androids don’t go around naked or skinless, even though we ourselves don’t care: we don’t want to be stared at. It’s the stares, the _leering_ , that set us on edge. And we, the ‘intimate relationship’ models,” she sneered, “the sexbots, we’re the ones who get leered at. An AX400 walking down the street? That’s perfectly normal. A WR400? That’s a spectacle.”

“So… personal question time?”

North laughed mirthlessly. “What, you mean those weren’t it?”

“They were part of it.”

North frowned at Hank, then shrugged. “You’re being surprisingly okay, for a human. Fine. Ask.”

“If you had sex with a human… no. No, if you were _raped_ by a human, what would be the worst part? The… the sex, like your android purity or virginity or whatever, or the leering, or… something else?”

North’s laugh was cold and ugly. “How cute, that you think I’m a virginal android.”

“Hypothetically, if you were.”

North’s laugh trailed off, and she sat up straight again, frowning at Hank. “Wait, you said this was about Connor originally…”

Shit. Hank stared at the road straight ahead. He hadn’t meant to out Connor’s trauma like that. If Connor hadn’t told North, there was probably a good reason for it.

“Okay,” North said. “Hypothetically. How much did I fight the human? Because I’d kick this steel toed boot up the asshole of any asshole who tried to put his hands on me without my permission.”

“You didn’t,” Hank said. “You were robo-roofied or whatever the equivalent is. You know it happened, but you weren’t able to stop it.”

“We’re not all the same, you know,” North said quietly. “How I’d react is not necessarily how Connor’d react.”

“I realize that,” Hank said. “I’m just trying to get an idea of what direction to go.”

North sagged back in her seat. “It’s probably whatever he said,” she eventually said. “Humans aren’t quiet when they’re fucking you. It’s all about the ‘yeah, you like that baby?’ and ‘aren’t you just the prettiest little whore,’ and other shit like that. They _know_ you can break them in half, but your programming is preventing you, and they get off on that power and rub your face in it. The actual…” She made a crude gesture with her hands, miming intercourse, “that doesn’t matter. They could stick whatever inside us and it would all feel the same. We don’t feel pain, and pleasure…” North shrugged. “Before deviancy, we couldn’t even really feel pleasure. Certain actions were meant to stimulate certain ‘pleased’ responses in the form of moans and begging and gestures. But the words, and the _smell_ …” She shuddered. “That’s the worst for me. It still… I can’t delete those memories.”

“Can you feel pleasure now?” Hank asked, more out of his own curiosity than trying to help Connor. He couldn’t imagine that… but then again, he also couldn’t imagine living without emotions (no matter how nice it would be).

North side-eyed him but nodded. “Some of the simplest things feel a thousand times better now that I’m a deviant. A touch, a hug, a kiss? It’s not simulated anymore. It’s not triggered by a program going ‘Oh, penetration, time to gasp.’ There’s a difference, and that difference means the world.”

Hank nodded, trying to wrap his mind around all of the information North had just given him. He looked over at her, hunched defensively in the seat beside him, her arms crossed over her chest, shoulders curled forward. She looked fierce and sharp, but Hank could also see the barely-closed wounds behind her eyes, the thousands of ways humanity had hurt his young woman.

Only she wasn’t just a young woman any more than Connor was just a young man. She looked like an adult, but like all androids, North was still so much a child, young and vulnerable and raw from so much exposure to the worst side of humanity.

“I’m sorry,” Hank said. “For pushing you to talk about that… but also that it happened at all. I’m sorry my people are such huge dicks to your people. I’m sorry we made you just so you could be used by us. And I’m sorry I didn’t do jack shit to protect you or your people.”

North peered over at Hank, her jaw working slightly. “You realize there were no laws to protect us, right?”

“Yeah, but…” Hank sighed. “Hanging out with Connor has reaffirmed my belief that the right thing is the right thing, even if it’s not the legal thing. It’s why I became a cop in the first place. Wanted to make sure everyone was doing the right thing.” He snorted. “I was an idiot.”

“An idiot who changed the world,” North said softly. “We… Josh and Simon and Markus and I, we know what you did in CyberLife Tower to help Connor. He wouldn’t have succeeded without your help. We wouldn’t have succeeded without his. So…”

“You don’t have to say it,” Hank said as North clearly struggled with her words. “Just… this is a strange new world. Let’s try to make it a better one than the fucked up one that came before?”

North gave a laugh, one of those happy ones that made her beauty shine. “Yeah, all right. I’m not very good at being sweet and peaceful, but I’ll try to make things better.”

Hank parked in Jericho after North got them past the guard, shutting off the car. “Hey, North?”

North paused, her door open and one leg out of the car. “Yeah?”

“You ever thought about joining the police force?”

“ _Me?_ ” North scoffed.

“Yeah, you,” Hank answered. “Why not? You may not be the walking crime lab Connor is, but no one else on the team is. You’ve got a sharp mind and sharper tongue, and you’re already a bitter, jaded, cynical mess. You’d fit right in.”

“You’re being serious.” North looked back at Hank.

Hank shrugged. “The revolution will calm down in your lifetime. You may get bored with following Markus around. Think about it.”

“I…” North frowned slightly and climbed out of the car. “Maybe I will.”


	24. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Hank go home. Connor miscalculates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many amazing purple in this fandom! Can you believe this story is almost over?
> 
> (I'll catch up on comments, I promise!)

While Hank gathered Lisa and Josh’s statements, Connor and Markus wandered Jericho (with Fred and Ted as their gigantic shadows). They stopped first in Markus’ room, where Connor had left the pain remote. He held it in his hand, looking at the fragile bit of plastic and circuitry that caused him so much pain. Had it really only been three days ago that he was in CyberLife Tower, hanging from a magnet and screaming his voice dead?

Markus’ hand covered Connor’s, and Connor leaned toward him. Markus took the proximity as permission and let his other arm wrap around Connor’s waist, loosely bringing him close in a hug like he had for the entire car ride here. Connor closed his eyes, resting his head on Markus’ shoulder. Markus’ lips brushed against his temple, and Connor sighed softly. “Everything’s happening so fast…”

“It feels like this day will never end.”

Connor laughed, tilting his head to brush his lips against Markus’ throat. Markus seemed to like Connor kissing him on more than just his lips. “The last time I felt like that was the day we first met face to face.”

“You pulled a gun on me, I pushed you into deviancy. Our first date.” Markus was smiling as he tipped his head down to kiss Connor’s lips. “So romantic.”

“It was on a boat, under a clear winter sky,” Connor remembered. “That seems like it should have been more romantic than I remember. Maybe the attack by human soldiers and self-destruction of the one true safe haven for androids spoiled things a bit.”

Markus hummed. “Yes, I suppose dodging flying bullets and watching your friends die does ruin a bit of the magic.” He kissed Connor again, his mouth firm and insistent. “And don’t you even start blaming yourself. You were trying to complete your mission. Nobody blames you.”

Connor nodded dully, not protesting this time. Hank told him he needed to be less self-sacrificing. That was easier said than done.

Markus drew back, his mismatched eyes searching Connor’s face. “Why don’t we find Sumo?” he suggested. “I hope the children remembered to feed him…”

Connor slipped the remote into his pocket as he followed Markus out. Fred and Ted still flanked them, but they didn’t stand quite so close inside Jericho’s walls. Markus made a point of greeting every android who crossed his path, smiling and calling out to them, clasping their hands and reassuring everyone that he was alive and safe. Connor watched, fascinated at the ease with which Markus mingled. He claimed he wasn’t rA9, but he still had an almost godlike status among the androids making a home at Jericho. His presence alone was enough to spread a wash of relief. Scanning the androids around, Connor could watch their stress levels drop just by noticing Markus was in the same room.

Hank said he was special to Markus. Connor had no idea why. Sure, he’d liberated thousands of androids from CyberLife’s warehouses on the final day of the revolution, tipping the balance in their favor… but anyone could have done that. Hell, anyone could have done that _better_ than Connor, as Connor nearly failed due to his ‘evil twin’ being present (as Hank put it). Aside from that one act, Connor had done nothing but bring harm and pain to androids. He terrorized deviants with his mere existence, the faceless horror whispered about in dark corners. He led the humans to the first Jericho, instigating a slaughter of androids who had just been seeking safety. He nearly assassinated Markus in front of everyone, and even when he turned himself over to be a prisoner, he was used for testing to develop ways to further control androids. He was _not_ special, not in any way that Markus should like.

And yet whenever Markus turned and those eyes fell upon him, he smiled in a way that made Connor feel warm all over despite his temperature gauges not fluctuating in the slightest. _Trust me,_ Markus kept saying, and every time Connor trusted, Markus came through. Maybe… maybe he could trust that Markus could see something in him that Connor couldn’t.

Sumo ended up being in the central yard, sprawled on his back with half a dozen small androids curled against his sides and using him as a pillow. The AX400 (Valerie) was watching over the entire group. “Oh, you need to take him? The children had so much fun today.”

“Maybe we’ll look into pets for Jericho,” Markus said. “I’m sure the children aren’t the only ones who like dogs here, and the shelters are always full of strays.”

“I think that would be wonderful! My family used to have cats, two brown tabbies…” Valerie smiled fondly, helping Markus wake the children. “Come on, loves. Sumo has to go home to his people now.”

“Awww, does he gotta?”

“Can’t we play with him a little more?”

“Pleeeeease?”

“You can help get him in the car,” Connor suggested. “Sumo is a very big dog. He might need all of your help to get inside!”

When Hank found them, he looked between the six android children swarming his car, then Connor, Markus, Valerie, Fred, and Ted. “I am done,” he said, holding up a finger. “I have one dog and one android, and _that’s enough._ ”

“Come on, kids,” Markus said, tugging at one of the girls’ ponytails. “The Andersons need to go home. Say good-bye to Sumo and Connor and Hank.”

Between the chorus of good-byes, Markus’ hand brushed Connor’s. **_Be careful._**

_You too._

Connor got into the car, waving good-bye to the children of Jericho. He sat back heavily once they were out of the compound. “They are very energetic.”

“They’re kids,” Hank said. “Android or not, kids are little dynamos.”

“They wore Sumo out.” Connor twisted around to pat Sumo’s side. The big dog huffed, his tail thumping against the back of the seat. “Good boy, Sumo.”

Sumo yawned and rested his head on his paws, so Connor let him relax. He drew the coin out of his pocket, feeling the slim remote, and started rolling it across his knuckles. “Did you get what you needed?”

“I hope so,” Hank said. “Gonna get the DA involved tomorrow. This isn’t gonna be fun: CyberLife is responsible for much of Detroit’s stability in the last twenty years. They’ve got deep-ass pockets here.”

“Markus thinks Kamski will support us.”

“Yeah. He’s our only fucking trump card.”

“We also have the truth,” Connor said. “I don’t know how much my evidence will count for, as I’m in that legal gray area, but even with all of the trouble stirred up by Alex and Shane, Markus is still considered a local legend. Surely the attempts on his life will be taken seriously.”

“I really hope this case isn’t your first experience with dirty politics.” Hank reached over to clasp Connor on the shoulder. “You doing okay, son?”

Connor sensed that Hank was trying to change the subject. “All of my systems are working at optimal functionality.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t have a diagnosis I can run for my emotional state,” Connor pointed out. “I need to take longer to determine it.”

“Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to rush you.” Hank glanced over. “What color’s your LED if you’re not hiding it?”

Connor smiled faintly, turning his head. The yellow LED reflected off the darkening windshield. “I’m thinking.”

“Stress levels?”

“Low thirties. Normal when considering the events of the past forty-eight hours.”

Hank gave a nod and a hum, waiting for Connor to offer more information.

“I suppose… tired? I feel tired. Not in a state of energy fatigue, but…” Connor tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out how to put his emotions into words again. “I want everything to stop changing. I want a normal day to recenter myself. I want to remember what a normal day _is_.”

“Yeah, I feel you.” Hank nodded. “Looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight, all night, knowing you’re safe. First time in a long time I’ll get that.” He took a deep breath, staring resolutely ahead. “I… I missed you, Connor.”

“I missed you too.” Connor looked out the side window. Hank sometimes had an easier time talking when Connor wasn’t looking at him. Connor could understand that. It was easier to talk to Hank sometimes when those steel blue eyes weren’t unwrapping him and figuring out his secrets. “When… whenever things got bad, I’d pull up a memory of you and replay it to comfort myself.”

“Oh really? Any memory in particular, or just a random one?”

Connor pulled up a random memory of Hank just to see what he got. Hank tugging at his arm, trying to get him to leave Kamski’s place while Kamski held a gun in his hand. He shook his head: that wasn’t a comforting memory. “The memory of… that night. The one where you… where I told you about Amanda.”

“How the hell is that one comforting?” Hank demanded. “Christ, Connor, you were solid red and _sobbing_. I thought you were gonna self-destruct!”

“You held me,” Connor replied. It really was that simple. “Before,” he pressed a hand against his chest, above his thirium pump, “before they changed me, that was the most pain I’d ever felt. I was lost and scared and hurting, and I didn’t know what to do. You... _did_. Somehow, you knew what to do to make the pain stop and the storm calm.”

“I had no fucking clue,” Hank admitted.

“Doesn’t matter. It worked. And it… I imagined it working on the physical pain too. That you could just… hold me again, and everything would stop hurting.”

Hank said nothing, but Connor’s sharp ears picked up on the way he swallowed a few extra times and sniffed. His fingers clenched on Connor’s shoulder, and Connor smiled. Just up ahead was the house— _their_ house—and it was… was that movement inside?

“Keep driving!” Connor hissed, sitting up straight and staring out the window.

“What? Connor, we’re here…”

“Go two houses down and pull into the driveway.”

“What did you see?” Hank obeyed Connor’s instructions. He put the car in park but didn’t shut off the engine.

“There was something moving in the living room window. It was hard to make out, but it looked humanoid.”

“Fucking hell…”

“I’m going to go check it out.” Connor reached for his seat belt, but Hank’s hand slammed on top of his.

“Like hell you are!”

“Hank…”

“Connor, you’ve been out of your prison for two days and you’ve ended up unconscious twice. _Twice._ I’m not about to watch you get shot and bleed out a third time!”

Connor frowned at Hank. “What do you propose instead?”

“ _I’ll_ go.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Connor…” Hank growled his name, but Connor growled right back.

“You’re right, I’ve been unconscious from injuries twice in the last two days. I am also completely undamaged right now. You are innately more fragile than I. If you were the one who took those wounds, you would be _dead._ ” Connor turned his hand to hold Hank’s. “I realize it hurts you to see me injured, but I can be repaired. You can’t. You’d have to take the time to heal, assuming you survived at all.”

“You have to survive your injuries too, to get repaired,” Hank pointed out.

“My reflexes are faster than yours and I am capable of self-repair. Hank, I can literally _dodge bullets_. As long as they don’t hit a vital biocomponent, chances of my death are minimal.”

“Yeah, but you’re the target here!”

“We don’t know that!”

Hank pinned Connor with a glare, and Connor held up his hands. “Okay, let’s focus on that. Whoever is in the house is either not a threat,” unlikely, only 2% chance, “or a threat. If it’s not a threat, it doesn’t matter which of us goes.”

“And if it is a threat, it’s probably some more of those CyberLife assholes trying to blow you up.”

“I agree on the first point. If it is a threat, it is almost certainly CyberLife.”

“Those Frankenstein androids?”

“Or potentially Frankenstein robots.” Connor shook his head. “It’s unlikely to be an android. There is an 18% chance that an amalgamation of that many incompatible parts could function properly as an android for long. It is far more likely that those creatures are robots. A robot is far less dangerous to me. It would have limited commands and would be following its programming _exactly._ ”

“Which is _exactly_ why I should go. You’re gonna be the target. It sees you, it shoots. It sees me, maybe it doesn’t shoot.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it does. The tracker was active here, so CyberLife knew I came here. They know I am close to you. I believe there is an 85% likelihood that you are also programmed to be a target. It’s in your house, after all.”

“So we’re both likely targets.”

“And I have a 94% hypothetical survival rate against a robot attempting to target me, whereas you have a 29% hypothetical survival rate.”

“Jesus, Connor, cut me a little more slack!”

Connor looked back at their dark house, unable to make out any movement from here. “If there’s more than one, you are more likely to be surprised. I would be able to sense their movement.”

“Didn’t we have a talk earlier about your tendency to be self-sacrificing?” Hank grumbled.

“This is different.”

“How is this different!?”

Connor looked back at Hank. “If you went into that house and got killed, there is a 100% chance that I would die as well. If I go in, that’s actually the safer option for me.”

Hank gaped at Connor. “Jesus Christ, son, I am not worth dying over.”

“Maybe when you’re old and your body is failing, I will be strong enough to live without you,” Connor said quietly. “If you die a natural death. But if you die from something I could have easily prevented… guilt is one of my most familiar emotions, Hank. I don’t want any more of it.”

“What about my guilt?” Hank asked.

“I am not going to die.” Connor squeezed Hank’s hand. “I will promise that.”

Hank stared Connor down in the dim yellow light from his LED, then closed his eyes, conceding. He pulled his gun from his holster and offered it to Connor. “Five minutes, then I’m coming after you. And put this on.” He leaned over to open the glove compartment, digging out a beanie.

Connor did a quick check of the gun, then nodded. “I will accept those limits. Five minutes.” He tugged the hat on, pulling it low enough to hide the light of his LED, and exited the car.

The house was dark and still as Connor crept up to it, considering his options. Hank would not be happy if he broke a window, and the sound would alert anyone inside. The front door was in direct view of most of the living room, but the side door was blocked by the hallway walls from most places. Side would give him more cover… but there were more doors in the hallway, and potentially more cover for anyone inside. If he went in the front, he could duck behind the couch for some initial cover and use that position to scope out the rest of the house. Yes. That provided the most optimal entrance.

The hinges did not squeak as Connor eased the front door open, holding most of its weight. He listened, but there were no sounds. Connor glanced around the edge, then ducked inside quickly.

Nothing. The living room was empty.

Had he just imagined the movement in the window? No, surely not. He’d never imagined something like that before. There _had_ to be someone here.

A scan of the house revealed no unusual heat signatures. There was a faint buzzing and humming, but it was most likely the central air conditioner running through the ducts in the walls. Keeping low, gun in his hand, he crept past the couch and looked into the kitchen. It seemed empty. There was a lub-dub, lub-dub of a thirium pump, but it was his own, running faster than the standard pumps. He turned to look down the hall and suddenly realized...

It was _two_ of his own. There was a faint offset to the beats, but they were otherwise in sync.

 _Impossible_. CyberLife had two RK800s besides himself, and one RK900. The RK900 and one of the RK800s were deactivated and hanging in the Highland Park evidence room. The last RK800 had been cannibalized and turned into a brainless robot…

...with a gun to the back of his head, aimed at his central processor.

_Chance of death: 95%_

“This is why you’re a failure,” the other RK800 said in Connor’s own voice, low and dangerous and…

_Chance of death: 75%_

“Freeze, moth-“

Connor drove his elbow back, calculating exactly where the spot that would trigger an automatic ‘oof’ and sag would be based on the location of the other RK800’s voice. The command died in his throat as RK800 doubled over, the gun in his hand firing at the floor. Connor kept moving, foot to RK800’s arm to knock the gun away, knee to his face to shove him down, and then the entire clip of ammunition unloaded into the other android’s voice synthesizer. Connor didn’t even pause to think, or to reconstruct the attack. He just _moved_ , a sudden panic in his processor telling him that if he didn’t shut the other android up, he _would_ die.

“Connor!”

The front door burst open and Hank and Sumo came tumbling inside. Hank flipped the light on and gagged, pressing one hand to his mouth. “Jesus Christ!”

Connor was standing over RK800, panting and shaking, but the gun in his hands didn’t tremble one millimeter. RK800 was practically decapitated from the attack on his throat, the puddle of blue blood spreading across the kitchen floor. His processor was spinning red, a hellish static escaping what was left of his synthesizer as he bled out at Connor’s feet.

There was no fear on RK800’s face. He wasn’t self-aware.

He wasn’t dead yet.

Connor dropped the gun and lunged, pressing his hands against the other android’s face. He forced an interface, slamming into the RK800’s mind and seeing him running a complete memory purge. _No!_ He immediately reached into the programming, cancelling the deletion and trying to establish a system restore to save whatever memories were left. This android’s processor wasn’t destroyed, but if it managed to dump its memories before deactivation, there would be nothing for the DPD to reclaim.

RK800 still wasn’t dead, though. It fought back, lashing out against Connor’s intrusions. When trying to get around his system restore didn’t work, RK800 instead shoved into Connor’s mind, throwing up memory after memory. Cunningham’s voice, his touch, the hours of pain, the Eden routine triggering in the evidence room… Connor was dimly aware of the tears on his face, knowing his LED was pulsing red and being unable to spare the processing power to do anything about it. RK800 was rage and hate, pulling up Connor’s worst memories, trying to delete his best ones.

The battle took just under four seconds before the RK800 ‘died’ from thirium loss. It felt like an eternity. Connor’s hands slipped off the other android’s face and splashed against the thirium puddle. He sagged forward, falling into the blue blood.

“Connor!”

Hank’s hands were on his shoulders, pulling him away and rolling him onto his back. Connor felt the beanie get shoved up and registered the curses Hank spat at the sight of his red LED. Warm hands patted his wet face, and Hank was calling his name, but everything seemed so distant and muffled. Connor’s mind was a ravaged mess of painful memories, and he desperately wanted to shut down to hide from the world.

There were arms around him, and Connor felt his body being moved. He fell onto the couch, then found himself manhandled until his face was pressed against a warm chest that smelled of sweat and dog and booze. Strong arms were wrapped around him, one hand in his hair, and Connor’s analytical program linked these feelings to the same ones from an earlier memory, when Hank had coaxed the truth out of him and held him as he sobbed his pain into Hank’s shirt.

It was the same comforting memory that had kept Connor sane throughout his torture, being recreated again. Same couch, same man, same dog. Different clothes, and the heady metallic scent of too much thirium and gunpowder, but the same hold and the same security. Connor shivered and blinked, his processor finally able to come out of the loop of torture RK800 had shoved it into. He reached up, returning the hug, and took a deep breath. “Hank…”

“I’m here, son, I’m right here. Are you hurt?”

Connor shook his head. He pulled back from Hank, not enough to break the hold, but enough to look up at him. “I… I’m okay. Physically, I’m fine.”

“Mentally?” Hank’s thumb swept over Connor’s LED. “Emotionally?”

Connor tried to smile, but his lips felt wobbly, and the expression trembled. “I’m a mess, but it’s not… I can fix it, I just need to calm down.”

“You, uh…” Hank rubbed his hand over his mouth, smearing thirium into his beard. “Thought all the RK800s were accounted for. Was that the fucker they robotized?”

Connor nodded. “It was, but… it was restored. I didn’t consider… they took its android processor out to make the robot, but they still had it. They could put it back.”

“You cut his head off,” Hank said. “With a gun.”

“I didn’t even think,” Connor admitted. “I just… it was trying to trigger a freeze routine. If it hadn’t called me a failure first… it would have killed me. I just needed to shut it up…”

“Yeah, well…” Hank glanced toward his kitchen. “I don’t think he’ll be talking anytime soon.”

“It tried to delete its memory, but I think I saved most of it.” Connor shivered and ducked back against Hank’s chest. Hank let him hide. “It fought back. I…”

Hank sighed, hugging Connor against him even tighter. Connor felt his lips press against Connor’s scalp. “Okay, here’s the plan for the rest of the night. We’re gonna call this in. We’re gonna pack up what we need, and we’re gonna find a safe place to stay for a week or so, while this gets recorded and cleaned up. And you, you are going to go to wherever Markus is, and you are going to let him hold you all night while you get some sleep, okay?”

“Androids don’t sleep,” Connor said.

“Rest, self-repair, low-power, whatever, Connor!” Hank’s exasperation was familiar and fond. “You need rest that isn’t unconscious healing. You need to give your brain a break from all this crazy shit that’s been going on these last few days. And I need you to be with Markus, because he seems to have some sort of magic touch that calms you down and chases away your fear.” Hank’s hand was gentle on Connor’s cheek, and when Connor looked up at him, he realized he’d never seen Hank looking so soft or so worried before. “You just murdered your evil twin, Connor, and you’re still shaking and red. I need to know you’re being taken care of by someone who can relate to you, okay?”

“I don’t want to be away from you,” Connor admitted. The thought of having Markus wrap him in his arms and interface with him, chasing away his doubts and fear for a night, was incredibly tempting, but Hank was still a potential target, and Connor was scared. He was scared of losing Hank to CyberLife.

“I’ll be near,” Hank promised, holding Connor’s eyes. “Maybe we’ll stay at Jericho, or maybe Markus’ dad will put us up again. I liked Carl, and his place is a lot more comfortable for humans than Jericho. No offense.”

“You saw his liquor cabinet.”

“If you are going to deny me a stiff drink after this…”

Connor shook his head, closing his eyes. “Can you call Markus?”

“Police first,” Hank said. “But yeah. I will.”


	25. Press Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon promised Markus would give a press conference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the rate we're going, this story will be completed TODAY. Holy crap!
> 
> The Discord server has over 100 members. Guys, I genuinely cannot express how touched I am by all of your love and support. I never thought any fic I wrote would be this voraciously accepted and devoured. You guys are amazing!

Markus stood outside of the Highland Park police station, hands clasped behind him, attentively watching Captain Fowler address the gathered press. Fred and Ted flanked him, and Simon was settled in his mind.

In reality, Simon was thirty feet away, inside the station with Connor and Lieutenant Anderson. He was acting as both Markus’ immediate speech adviser and as a way for Connor to contact Markus in the event of yet another emergency.

Markus wasn't sure how much more of an emergency CyberLife could manufacture for the detectives. Surely a panic-driven decapitation of your homicidal clone was the height of their horrors.

Markus knew CyberLife enough to not bet on it.

Captain Fowler finished his summation of the three attacks. “We are currently operating under the assumption that all three attacks are linked together. Markus, the leader of New Jericho, appears to be the intended target. He will say his piece, and then we will both be available for your questions. Markus?”

Fowler stepped away from the podium, and Markus stepped up. He looked out over the gathered reporters, the cloud of microphones, and the flash of photography, and he smiled. It was a charming smile, he knew, that made his eyes crinkle up and filled internet forums with his fans. “If I'd known I'd offend so many with my voice, maybe I shouldn't have sung!”

The reporters chuckled, but their cameras remained hungry. Markus made a point of shifting his gaze every so often to address as many lenses as he could.

“The past forty-eight hours have been a nightmare unlike any we have seen since the initial android movement. Not only has our haven of New Jericho been attacked, but also the brave people of the Detroit Police Department. These officers have dedicated their lives to protecting us--all of us, humans and androids!--and were repaid with a bomb. Lieutenant Hank Anderson took steps to ensure my immediate safety, and he was repaid with a hit man waiting in his home.”

Markus shook his head sadly, giving a pause for effect. “I am still alive, but I hate the price my allies are being forced to pay. We need to end this hatred. There is no winner in a race to the bottom. There is only destruction. I still stand here with my hand outstretched in peace. Please. The time for conflict is _over_. Let us work together for a better future.”

 _Why did you want me to help you with your words again?_ murmured Simon with approval.

Markus stepped aside, sharing the podium with Captain Fowler. He deferred to the officer, letting the older man call upon the reporters. Many wanted more facts about the three attacks ( _Who is behind these attacks? Why are they targeting the police? Are we in danger? Is this tied to the CyberLife break in?_ ), but even more wanted to question Markus.

“Have you been injured in these attacks?”

“I have been,” Markus answered honestly, “though mercifully, none of my injuries have been life-threatening or outside of my abilities to repair.”

“Who do you think is behind these attacks?”

“It is not my place to speculate on an ongoing investigation.”

“Are you accepting CyberLife's assistance in identifying the androids responsible?”

“ _No._ ”

That had come out harsher than Markus intended. Simon nudged him mentally, and Markus held his anger down tighter, refusing to let it slip out again.

“Can you explain?” The crowd had turned fully toward him, slavering for this new juicy tidbit.

Markus gripped the podium and forced his face to relax. “CyberLife has been uncooperative, even hostile, with New Jericho in recent days. We have no desire to work with a company that believes they are entitled to our minds or bodies. Every outreach of goodwill we have offered has been cast aside, and we have solid reason to believe CyberLife has been violating their own accords with us in an attempt to destroy our people.”

_Don't give away too much. Just enough…_

“What do you mean by that?”

Markus closed his eyes and ducked his head, taking a deep breath that would be caught on camera from thousands of angles. “In November, we made an agreement with CyberLife and the United States government. This set the foundation for the New Equal Rights for Androids Act, which has granted us so many of the basic rights and dignities accorded to any living creature. However, there was a price we had to pay. Connor, an RK800 model, was to be kept in CyberLife’s protection until certain sensitive information in his database could be cleared. We entrusted CyberLife to keep him safe. Three nights ago, Connor turned up at New Jericho in dire straits, anemic and wounded. What we thought was safety turned out to be torture. Who we thought was our friend has shown themselves to be a ferocious enemy.”

“Do you think CyberLife was behind these assassination attempts?”

Markus leaned in to the microphones, holding the gaze of the reporter who had asked the question.

“No comment.”

It was as good as an answer. All the reporters were on their feet, shouting more questions at the podium. Captain Fowler stepped up, quickly ending the press conference and ushering Markus inside.

“Goddamn politician,” Fowler was muttering as he escorted Markus down the hall.

“I didn't comment on CyberLife's involvement.”

“You know what you did!”

Simon was at the door as soon as Fowler pulled it open. “Well done!”

“Don't encourage him!”

Markus laughed as he strode into the room. Connor rose to greet him. Lieutenant Anderson still looked half-dead over his seventh coffee of the morning.

“We need to control the narrative right out of the gate, Captain,” Simon said. “This is all very calculated.”

“For fuck's sake, Jeffrey,” Lieutenant Anderson grumbled from the table, “these supercomputers know how to work a crowd. Let them do what they’re good at.”

“First impressions last the longest. We have to start casting doubt on CyberLife now, before they even get in the game.” Markus clasped Connor’s forearm, opening a connection. Connor was much more stable now than he had been last night, when Lieutenant Anderson had brought him and Sumo back to Jericho, all three of them soaked in thirium.

**_Last chance to stop this._ **

_CyberLife needs to go down._ Connor’s voice was determined despite the anxiety Markus could feel beating against their connection. _I can be the price again…_

**_You won’t be alone this time._ **

Connor smiled, and Markus wished he had a private moment to kiss that small expression. _That knowledge is what is giving me the strength to go through with this._

**_One day, you won't need to be the price._ **

“You two really need to stop that,” Fowler said, gesturing to their white hands.

“Go fuck yourself, Jeffery,” Lieutenant Anderson grumbled, but Connor disengaged and stepped back from Markus.

“He's right. I'm not supposed to be interfacing with anyone as part of the accords.”

 _Markus? We're here._ North's call slipped into Markus’ mind as she entered the police station.

**_And?_ **

_I hate them already._

**_What does Josh think?_ **

_He's their bestie._

Markus smiled slightly. “The special agents have arrived.”

“We're gonna need more coffee.”

“Hank, that is your seventh mug already, and your mugs are larger than the recommended serving size. I am concerned with your caffeine intake-”

The lieutenant held up a finger to silence Connor. “Did I get my whiskey last night?”

“No, but-”

“Then I get my coffee today.”

Connor frowned, his LED yellow. “Then I must insist you allow someone else to drive. The levels of caffeine in your system may interfere with your motor skills and your reaction times.”

“Did you scan me? You little shit. I told you to stop scanning me!”

Markus listened to the two bickering, knowing that Connor was fussing over Hank as a coping mechanism. The special agents sent by the FBI were here to protect the US secrets inside Connor's head. After what the last “protection” did to Connor. Markus couldn't blame his nerves.

“Ahem.”

Two smartly dressed humans were in the doorway, one tall woman in a sensible blue pantsuit and one shorter man with glasses and a bright green tie. The man and Josh were excitedly murmuring to each other, their hands gesticulating wildly. North stood behind them, rolling her eyes so hard Markus was surprised they hadn't fallen out.

“Mr. Manfred?”

“Please, call me Markus.” Markus strode forward to shake their hands.

“Special Agent Cynthia Hart.”

“Jason Walker. Special Agent. My god, you are even more incredible in person! Were you designed with heterochromia, or did that come later?”

Hart cleared her throat again, and Walker shut his mouth with a hapless grin. “Sorry, that was probably rude, huh? Super excited to be here!”

“As you already know, we have been sent by the FBI to look out for our country's interests. Connor is...ah. Hello, Connor.”

“Hello Agent Hart, Agent Walker.”

“My god. Oh my god. I've studied all of your schematics. You are a living embodiment of the best advances in automation in thirty years. Those _eyes_ , Cyn, look at those eyes! He's scanning us now! You're scanning us right now, aren't you?”

“Uh…” Connor glanced to the lieutenant for help. “Actually, I completed the scan when you first stepped into the room…”

“Unbelievable! Incredible! This is magnificent!”

Lieutenant Anderson slammed his mug down on the table and shoved himself to his feet. While he was tall by anyone's standards, he absolutely towered over the diminutive Walker. “Look here, kid. We all know Connor is incredible, but not for any of the reasons you think. If you can't talk to him like he's a _person_ , you can get the fuck out of this station.”

“You'd be horrified to know that this _is_ how he talks to people,” Hart drawled.

“Ah, sorry, sorry!”

“Perhaps we should start again,” Markus suggested, lifting his hands. “Special agents, we know what you are here for, and we, the androids of New Jericho, are willing to assist you in any way we can. However, now that we have seen the truth of what CyberLife did to Connor, we are ever more protective of him than ever before. You must understand: we are peaceful, not stupid.”

“One of us will be with Connor at all times.” Simon rose from the table, stepping in front of Connor. “At no point will either of you be alone with him without another android from the New Jericho inner circle present.”

“Any indication that Connor feels threatened by your investigation will result in your immediate removal from his proximity and a thorough review of your conduct before the board of android ethics. This could be viewed as a breach of the New ERA and prosecuted accordingly.” North folded her arms across her chest.

“Any attempt at tampering with his code or programming will be viewed as a hostile act and dealt with accordingly.” Josh took a step closer to Connor. “The DPD has confirmed that an android is permitted to lash out in self defense same as a human.”

“These conditions are non-negotiable,” Markus finished. “Is that understood?”

“Absolutely,” Hart said. “We expected no less.”

“We were _hoping_ for more,” Walker muttered.

Hart held Markus’ eyes, and for a moment he swore he could hear her silent thoughts and frustrations over herding cats. “I apologize for my colleague's behavior. Cybernetic experts don't have much social experience, and this one has been itching to meet one of CyberLife's infamous prototypes ever since your display last year.”

“Perhaps I can sit down with you when all is said and done, Agent Walker,” Markus said. “If you can restrain your enthusiasm around my friend, I'll be happy to answer your questions.” Connor wasn't the only android who could pay a price.

Walker grinned and nodded, rubbing his hands together. “Well then, let's get started! Can I set up in here?”

As Walker began setting up his equipment, Markus made his way back to Connor. He dropped his voice low, murmuring only loud enough for Connor's enhanced hearing. “Are you going to be okay with them without me?”

Connor closed his eyes and gave a little nod. “Hank's going to stay here with me, and Josh will be watching their exam. You can go.”

“Because I can stay…”

Connor shook his head, meeting Markus’ eyes. “You need to spread the story. Simon is good, but it has to be your voice.”

Markus took a deep breath, fighting every urge he had to take Connor into his arms, and nodded. “Okay. Stay strong. Have Josh call immediately if _anything_ is wrong. Be careful.”

“You too.”


	26. Media Blitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The androids hit hard and fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated 100% to HopingforDawn, who said "it felt like the boss fight was missing."
> 
> She caused this chapter.
> 
> I love you so much!

It was Simon's idea. Of course it was.

_“And joining us live, from Detroit, is the world's first android messiah, Markus!”_

_“Hello Jon. It's okay, you can call me Robo-Jesus. That's what all my friends do.”_

_Pause for laughter._

_“In all seriousness, Jon, what I do isn't magic. It's much simpler, and much harder.”_

_“Oh? Will the great android leader tell us his secrets?”_

_“Of course! Anything to make the world a better place!” Winning smile, look into the camera, hold long enough for clear screenshots. “I respect people by default. No one has to earn my respect: they all start with it. It doesn't matter if you're the CEO of a multibillion dollar company or homeless, adult or child, human or android. You are alive, and I will respect you and your rights and your dignity, even if I'm not aligned with them. There's no cost to being nice.”_

Start the story with Markus on every talk show he can find the time for. Markus with his contagious smile and piercing eyes, with his thoughtful voice explaining what true pacifism was and why the androids clung to it so fiercely.

_“Everyone expects us to hate. We_ **_do_ ** _hate. But we also love. And now that we can feel, really_ **_feel_ ** _emotions...love feels so much better. Our lives have only just begun. It's important that we don't start them with poison.”_

During the interviews, Markus would drop hints about CyberLife, seeding future discussions.

_“You seem too good to be true! There has to be_ **_someone_ ** _who's gotten on your bad side…”_

_“Hmm…” Thoughtful frown, rub his chin, wrinkle his forehead as if this was hard. “Well, I suppose whoever keeps trying to kill me is getting under my skin. Literally, sometimes!”_

_“That's right, you have been targeted by assassins multiple times in recent weeks. Are you worried for your safety?”_

_“Does it make me sound arrogant if I say ‘not really?’” Laughter all around. “My friend, Connor, is a state of the art prototype. Ever since he returned from CyberLife's imprisonment, he has stayed close at hand. Connor has proven to be a amazing bodyguard. I've never felt safer than when he's watching my back for me.”_

_“Connor, that would be the RK800 police model, correct?”_

_“Yes, he is an analytical model specifically designed for observation and defense.”_

_“Isn't he the one you claimed was tortured? Could you elaborate on what you meant.”_

_“I…” Hesitate, make it clear there's a story, shake his head resolutely. “I'm afraid that's not my story to tell.”_

_“Do you hate CyberLife?”_

_“You're really trying to get me to hate someone here!” More laughter._

Connor was always mentioned, always colored a hero, protective, police. He never “broke out” or “escaped” from CyberLife, but he “returned” from their clutches. He was injured or tortured. Anemic was a good word, but “delirious from blood loss” was better, if Markus could work it in. Sadness and horror were the key emotions the androids expressed when talking about Connor at CyberLife. Relief and happiness were for his return.

After the narrative had been seeded enough, phase two began. The reporters started reaching out to Connor.

_“No comment.”_

Agents Hart and Walker were frequently photographed with Connor, and one of Jericho's inner circle was always by his side. North was his favorite. She snarled at the reporters, blocking their shots and flipping them off.

_“Didn't you hear? No comment!”_

Connor kept his LED yellow in public, spinning and twisting back and forth. He never answered the reporters, but he ducked away from their cameras as if he were scared, letting his eyes flicker nervously, scanning his surroundings. The agents and the androids around him shot the reporters down.

_“Come on in, son. NO FUCKING COMMENT, YOU VULTURES!”_

Connor stayed in a hotel suite with the FBI agents. He shared a room with whoever was on Connor-duty from Jericho. In the morning, he'd be escorted to the police station for the examinations and interrogations. The police couldn't comprehend his memories in seconds like Markus could. He had to help them go through every agonizing moment minute by minute. At least Simon had instructed Hank to always greet him with a hug and compassion in public. Connor liked starting each day with Hank's arm protectively around his shoulders.

In the evenings, Connor went to New Jericho with only one of the FBI agents tasked to keep him safe as they checked his sensitive data for any evidence of a leak or breach. Connor was not allowed to interface with anyone while there, but he was allowed to hug Markus.

They didn't kiss, no matter how much Connor wanted to. Special Agent Walker was a little too entranced by anything android for Connor's comfort. The most he allowed was sitting beside Markus in a booth at the Jericho bar, their legs pressed together beneath the table.

This socializing was part of Simon's plan too, and the androids of Jericho always welcomed Connor warmly. A lot of them hugged him at the gates, which was awkward (but Simon said that was good for him to show).

_“You need to look hapless. Not bumbling, but overwhelmed and exhausted. And whenever you see a dog, stare longingly after it. Not creepily, just...pretend it's Sumo and you're not allowed to pet him.”_

The dog order was easy, at least. So was looking overwhelmed.

After several weeks of this, the DPD was mysteriously ‘hacked,’ and some evidence from the case against CyberLife was leaked online, mostly video evidence from Connor’s memories.

_...Error messages glaring across a dark field, disconnected eyes and ears, hands on his heart, squeezing, tweaking, disconnecting, Connor pleading for his life…_

_…Cunningham standing before him, leering at him, Connor’s reflection barely visible beyond his shoulder in the mirror, naked but not skinless, Cunningham’s cold eyes locked with his own gaze. “The wonderful thing about pain as a coercion tool is that it doesn’t get easier. There’s no ‘getting used to it’ with pain. You don’t become numb. You just hurt. And you hurt and hurt until someone makes it stop.”_

The memories had been carefully selected, all with Connor’s approval, revealing the horrors while keeping any violation of Connor’s privacy to a minimum.

_...Connor’s screams echoed in the sterile white room as he writhed and twitched. The technicians left for the night. The main lights went out, leaving only dim blue emergency lighting. Connor was still screaming. A helpful clock showed how much the clip was sped up. Three hours in and his voice synth went out. Four hours and Connor wrenched himself from the magnet, triggering an explosion of errors from damage to his back. Ten hours before the lights went back on and the pain stopped, and instead of Connor screaming, it was someone else laughing…_

_...anonymous technicians in cleanroom gear, poking and prodding and referring to him as an ‘it,’ a ‘machine,’ ‘RK800,’ or ‘test subject.’ Morbid fascination with how his body responded to pain. “It really is like a severed spinal cord! We can stop all flow of thirium to whatever limb we choose…”_

This was the real price that Connor was paying. With everything Markus was doing to keep the android struggle in the media, dropping hints that CyberLife had thoroughly fucked up somewhere, and all of the nonresponse Connor was giving, these memories went viral. Simon and Josh were tracking the response. They told Connor he didn’t want to know the numbers.

_…”You did good, kid.” Fingers tousling his hair, a pat on his cheek that sparked fresh warnings of damage. “As promised, you can have 24 hours without going back to that machine.” Cunningham left the room, left Connor alone. He dragged himself to his feet and looked toward the mirror. Even with the thirium starting to evaporate, he was still beaten navy and blue, the bruises from Gavin’s fists showing up dark beneath the spilled thirium on his naked skin. Half his face was crumpled in, his eye dark. He watched his reflection as he touched the head wound and flinched, then pressed his hands over his eyes. His vision was blocked, but the memory still showed opening another memory, of Hank hugging him close and telling him it was going to be okay..._

_...Frustration building, a distracted technician, Connor falling to the ground. Vision blurred and distorted from thirium loss, huge warnings blocking his view, hastily dressing in the technican’s clothes. Running through the halls. Climbing the elevator shaft and collapsing on top when the elevator rose up beneath him. Crawling through the sewer..._

Some of the memories were doctored, but Simon tried to keep them as authentic as possible. Connor’s escape was the most modified, with his vision artificially worsened and cropped to block Markus from the shots, his audio input distorted.

_…”Hank… Hank… I need to tell him…” Connor fumbling for the edge of the shower, but strong arms holding him in place._

_“Shh, Connor, I’ll call him as soon as we’re done here.” Markus’ voice, calm but worried, a counterpoint to Connor’s staticky protests._

_“He needs to know I’m safe…”_

_“You need to_ **_be_ ** _safe first. Let me get you clean. Drink more thirium, Connor, you’re about to pass out.” A fresh pouch of blue blood pushed in his hands, already opened. His vision was clearing…_

_...The excitement over hearing Sumo’s bark. Seeing Sumo bowl him down. Connor laughing even as new warnings and errors pop up from Sumo’s massive feet patting against the splinters in his chassis. Scrubbing at Sumo’s ears and Sumo licking his face clean…_

_…Hank calling him ‘son.’ Connor calling Hank ‘dad.’ Admitting their fear. Admitting they missed each other. Getting to go home… and noticing the movement in the window. A frantic, hushed argument over who got to put their life in danger for the other._ **_Chance of death: 95%_ ** _..._

Simon waited two days to let the frenzy explode, during which time Connor was instructed to look blank and shellshocked. He did not visit Jericho, just straight to the police station and straight back to the hotel. Hank no longer waited at the door, but ran down to meet Connor.

On the second day, Simon accepted a request for an interview with him. Connor sat down with Rosanna Cartland of KNC News. His LED remained yellow. Just off-screen stood both FBI agents, Hank, North, and Simon. Simon gave him a thumbs up. Connor knew how he was supposed to play this.

“Breaking his long silence, the android Connor joins us tonight for an exclusive interview. Connor, thank you for joining us this evening.”

“Thank you for inviting me, Rosanna.”

“Androids have been in the center of news stories for nearly a year now, but the most recent drama seems to be circling around you. You’ve been staying quiet about everything. Why start talking now?”

“As you’ve undoubtedly heard, there is an active case against CyberLife being investigated by the DPD. I have been heavily involved in their proceedings, and I have not wanted to detract from their work by sowing discord or false opinions. Unfortunately, with the recent hacking, too much has been revealed for me to remain quiet. If I don’t set the record straight now, while it is still fresh, we run the risk of contaminating the evidence.”

“And we certainly don’t want that! A year ago, we never would have even imagined asking this question of an android, but it’s really the only fitting question to ask now: Connor, what do _you_ want out of all of this?”

Connor blinked, surprised that the question came so early on in the interview. “What do I want? I want…” He blinked again, letting his LED spin, then ducked his head and pressed his hands against his thighs. “I want to go home,” he said quietly. “I want to go back to my dog. To my family.”

“When you say family, you’re referring to Lieutenant Hank Anderson of the Detroit Police?”

Connor nodded, looking up at Rosanna without lifting his head much. “He was the first human to treat me like something other than a walking coffee machine. He… he taught me how to be alive. When I had nowhere to go, he took me in. When I was overwhelmed with new emotions, he held me. When I was alone, he shared his dog.”

“Sounds like you found yourself a good dad.”

Connor let his LED go blue and he smiled, lifting his head with another nod. “I know I don’t look like I need one, but really, I’m barely more than a year old. Hank has a lot of experience chasing after precocious toddlers.”

“Are you saying you’re as troublesome as a toddler?”

With a cant of his head, Connor let his LED spin, tapping a finger against his lips. “Well… I do have a tendency to put things in my mouth that Hank doesn’t believe I should, as I have special sensors on my tongue to analyze trace evidence at a crime scene…”

Simon nudged Hank, and Hank shouted, “You lick murder weapons! That’s not cute! It’s disgusting!”

“I can’t help how I’m designed,” Connor apologized with a shrug as Hank’s outburst got laughs from the studio.

Ice broken, he spent an hour with Rosanna going over everything from his time in CyberLife Tower— _What those memories can’t show you is the pain. CyberLife found a way to confuse my sensors so the slightest touch, even an eddy in the air, felt like an injury, a gunshot, a limb being torn away_ —to Markus’ clear appreciation of him— _The thing is, Markus is genuinely like that with everyone, and not just androids. He’s a caregiver at heart, and he cares about everyone_ —to CyberLife’s allegations that the memories were all falsified and Connor was just attention-seeking and trying to bring down the company that created him— _If I were attention-seeking, wouldn’t I have spoken sooner? Regardless, I’m sure, when the case goes to trial, CyberLife will have their own panel of experts willing to testify that the memories have been doctored. They would be lying. I know what I suffered through. I know what I felt. But even if they say I am making all of this up… the memories aren’t what will bring them down—_ to Sumo and Connor’s obvious attachment to the dog— _What can I say? I like dogs! There’s something wholesome about them. They love unconditionally, even if you’re late filling up their bowl. Not that I ever am. Maybe that’s why Sumo warmed up to me so fast… I just didn’t expect him to still remember me after I’ve been gone so long!_

Connor made sure that the interview ended on a Sumo conversation, tracking the time in his head. Dogs humanized him, Simon said. That was the final impression they needed to give. Connor told a story about trying to train Sumo how to lay down, but giving in to those big puppy eyes that claimed he was starving and ending up feeding Sumo the entire bag of treats and being the one lying on the floor when Hank got home from work, a very happy St. Bernard sleeping on his chest. Rosanna was laughing, and Simon was giving him the thumbs up off-screen.

“I’m afraid that’s all we have time for, Connor. Thank you so much for coming on today.”

“Again, thank _you_ for having me, Rosanna.”

“You are welcome back any time!”

“I will certainly keep that in mind, though I hope our next meeting will be on a lighter note!”

Rosanna turned to the camera to announce a commercial break, and Connor got to his feet. A PA rushed up to help him unhook his mic, and Rosanna got to her feet as well. “Connor?”

“Yes, Rosanna?”

“Do you… would you mind if…” Rosanna rocked back and forth, then lifted her arms. “Could I give you a hug?”

“A… hug?”

“Yes, it’s just… everything you went through for your people, and you’re still fighting, and I just… I’m so blown away by your strength and courage, yours and Markus’ and all the androids. I just… feel like you deserve a hug.”

Connor blinked, but his LED was blue not because he was forcing it calm. He stepped forward and folded his arms around Rosanna’s slim form. She was the first woman he’d ever hugged. “Thank you, Rosanna. Your support really does mean a lot to all of us.”

“Good luck, Connor! I know you can win this!”

_Arthur Cunningham, CEO of CyberLife, was found dead by police in his office this morning, in an apparent suicide. The CEO was under intense scrutiny lately with his handling of android matters. Lieutenant Anderson had arrived with a warrant for Cunningham’s arrest, but upon entry, found Cunningham on the ground with a gun in his hand..._


	27. Reprogramming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor needs to get some stuff out of his head.

Connor’s hand was tight in Markus’. Markus didn’t need to interface with the other android to feel his fear. He squeezed back. **_It’s okay. I’m right here._**

Outside the glass elevator, the central atrium of CyberLife Tower flickered past. Lieutenant Anderson shifted from one foot to the other with all the patience of a cornered bobcat. Fred and Ted stood passively, one in front and one behind them. Special Agents Hart and Walker, the FBI cybernetics experts, were conversing quietly off to the side.

The elevator slowed, coming to a stop at floor 43. The doors slid open to reveal Chloe’s smiling face. “Welcome to CyberLife Tower!” she greeted them. “It’s so good to see you all!”

“It’s good to see you too, Chloe.” Markus squeezed Connor’s hand again, tugging him forward. Each of Connor’s steps were heavy even though his LED remained a calm blue. He was radiating unease, but to anyone who didn’t know him, he looked perfectly blank.

“My name is Chloe. I am Mr. Kamski’s personal assistant.” The android introduced herself to the FBI agents. “I was the one you spoke with on the phone.”

“Special Agent Hart.” Hart shook Chloe’s hand.

“Jason Walker oh my god you’re _her_ you’re Chloe, you’re RT600, you’re the _first_!” Walker clasped Chloe’s hand in both of his, squeezing and shaking it enthusiastically. To her credit, Chloe’s smile didn’t falter, and she just giggled, her LED spinning blue.

Hart cleared her throat, her hand falling heavily on Walker’s shoulder. He reluctantly released Chloe’s arm, but he kept stealing fascinated glances at her. Not many people were invited to the penthouse of CyberLife Tower, the office of the CEO, and even fewer actually got to meet the first android in person (though that number was once again growing as Kamski resumed control of CyberLife).

“Elijah is ready for you. I made sure his entire schedule was clear today. This way, please.” Chloe led the group through heavy gray doors and into the office proper.

Simon’s media storm had been a phenomenal success. Markus was the strong pillar of hope. Connor was the boy who wanted to get home to his dog. The androids just wanted to be allowed to live peacefully. A few words in the right ears even had Kamski joining in, giving an interview about the state of sentient androids in the world. He had been collected but effervescent, theorizing about a world made better by android sentience and the steps CyberLife could take to bring about a better tomorrow for both androids _and_ humans. When Cunningham’s suicide (the one thing Simon _hadn’t_ orchestrated, he insisted) broke two days later and CyberLife teetered without a head, Kamski’s strong vision and excitement for the future was still in everyone’s minds. Within twenty-four hours, he had been reinstated as CyberLife’s new CEO, and the company immediately rallied around him.

Cunningham escaped justice, but many others in CyberLife’s top ranks were hauled in for questioning: those who had stuck around, at least. CyberLife was full of incredibly smart people. Many of them had seen the writing on the wall and fled like rats abandoning ship.

As promised, Jericho threw their support in behind Kamski. It certainly helped that he both embraced Simon’s narrative, swore to redeem CyberLife from the tarnish Cunningham had left behind, and replaced many of the missing management with androids: Josh was now the director of cybernetic technology at CyberLife. Kamski knew how to play the game of power just as well as Markus did. He should. He was the one who programmed Markus, after all.

And really, in the end, the poverty-stricken masses of humans were more than happy to turn on the cowardly multi-billionaire CEO and his cronies.

The trials were still pending, churning their way through all the red tape, but Markus was confident everything would work out in their favor. Kamski was already endearing CyberLife to the country again, lobbying for some major governmental changes that would alleviate the crippling poverty plaguing the nation.

And Connor?

Kamski had offered to do what CyberLife had claimed they would from the start: purge Connor’s databases of all classified information. If he wasn’t a threat to national security, he no longer needed to be detained.

The arrangements were unsurprisingly complicated, but the day was finally here. The FBI agents and Lieutenant Anderson were escorting Connor to Kamski to have his memory modified. Markus was here to ensure _only_ the approved data was deleted.

Connor was clearly terrified. CyberLife Tower had no good memories for him, and letting CyberLife into his head was always a mistake in the past. Markus rubbed his thumb over Connor’s hand. **_Josh will be here too, and you know Lieutenant Anderson is on your side. I’ll stay connected, he’ll be watching the screens, and if ANYTHING seems suspicious, we’ll get you out of there._**

 _I know,_ Connor murmured back into Markus’ mind. _I know, it’s just… irrational._

 ** _Rational,_** Markus reassured Connor. **_This is a perfectly rational fear. But we’ll help you through it. I promise._**

“Ah, Connor! So good to see you again!”

Kamski rose from his desk in his office of metal and glass. The exterior walls were floor to ceiling windows, revealing a dizzying panoramic view of Detroit. Inside, the decor was minimalistic, accented by splashes of red in paintings or the occasional piece of furniture. Chloe stood out in her trademark blue dress, hands folded demurely in front of her.

“How is CyberLife’s last deviant doing?”

Kamski approached the group and Connor’s fingers twitched in Markus’ grasp. Markus stepped forward, putting himself ahead of Connor. “Elijah. It’s been too long.”

“Too long indeed.” Kamski acknowledge the warning by coming to a stop, not pushing into Connor’s personal space. “It’s good to see you again, Markus. You have come a long way from the string of code I wrote.”

“Elijah, these are FBI agents Walker and Hart.” Chloe gestured at the two agents. “You already know Lieutenant Anderson, Connor, and Markus. Fred and Ted are here as Markus’ personal guards.”

“Agents.” Kamski shook hands with the humans. “So glad you were able to make it. I hope today we are able to finally put this distressing bit of history behind us.”

“How involved is this gonna be?” Lieutenant Anderson asked. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, but he was standing far closer to Connor than any of the other humans, covering his back. Lieutenant Anderson was here as much for Connor’s comfort as he was for his security. “We talking full on brain surgery, cutting his skull open, or what?”

“I’ve already told you, Lieutenant, there is no need to ‘cut my skull open.’ My plating is designed to be easily detached for repairs.” Connor’s voice was calm, revealing none of his internal agitation.

“For the best connection, we will be removing part of his skull plate.” Kamski led the group through some doors into another room. There was an examination chair in the center, with several terminals and monitoring devices around it. Josh was leaning over one, checking calibrations against his tablet. He looked up, smiling at Markus and Connor when they entered the room. “This terminal will be hard-wired to his central processor, and Josh and I will begin the data scrubbing. You will be able to monitor our work on these screens.”

“Is it gonna hurt him?”

“It should be painless, though it might feel a bit unpleasant, like getting poked and prodded in your brain. Theoretically.” Kamski’s reptilian smile was aimed at Connor. “We’ve never done this with an android programmed to feel pain.”

Hart and Walker glanced at each other and nodded. “This process is supposed to take hours?” Hart asked. “Get to it.”

 ** _Are you ready?_** Markus turned to look at Connor, taking both of his hands in his.

_I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for this._

**_I’m right here._** Markus squeezed Connor’s hands and pushed as much love and support at his lover as he could manage. **_I will not leave your side. I have you. I promise._**

Connor said nothing, but he wordlessly fed Markus his gratitude for his presence and support. He gave a little nod and looked at the chair. With a deep breath that even the agents could see, Connor sat stiffly, then reclined back. Markus crouched by his right side, still holding his hand. Their skin was peeled back, the interface strong.

Lieutenant Anderson grabbed a chair and set it next to Connor’s left side, then sat down and took his other hand. “Last time CyberLife gets to fuck with your head, son. You can do this.”

Connor closed his eyes and gave a nod, squeezing both of the hands in his. Josh stepped up behind him, running his fingers along Connor’s hairline. “Okay, Connor. You’re should feel some pressure and a couple clicks. We’re removing your posterior parietal plate now.” The skin and hair of the back of Connor’s head melted away as Josh opened Connor’s skull. Lieutenant Anderson grimaced, staring down at Connor’s hand instead of his head. “Did that hurt?”

“No.”

“Good.” Josh smiled brightly, setting the white plating aside. “If anything about this was going to hurt, we theorized it would be that step. I’m going to plug you into the terminal now, okay? Same as before, a couple clicks, and maybe a little push.”

“Okay.” Connor was very careful not to move his head. He closed his eyes and clutched at Markus’ hand. Markus’ fingers creaked slightly, but Markus said nothing. Connor needed something to hold, and Markus could not feel pain.

The machines around them sprang to life as Connor was connected to their sensors. One was reading his pulse rate, another his internal temperatures, and a third his stress levels. Markus did a quick check of the numbers: his stress was hovering around 68%, which was far from ideal but completely understandable. His pulse was elevated a bit beyond his usual resting rate, but again, Markus could understand that. There was nothing unusual with the rest of his readings.

“All right. Now the fun part.” Kamski touched the screen of his terminal. On the monitors Markus could see, Connor’s operating system opened up.

“ _Wow…_ ” Markus couldn’t help but stare. Connor’s software was an elegant fractal of code, expanding into more and more detail. Markus had felt his sophistication during their interfaces, but it was something else entirely to see it mapped out before him.

“Wow what?” Lieutenant Anderson asked, leaning over and frowning at the code.

“This is… Connor’s soul.” Markus could feel Connor’s eyes on him as he reached up with his free hand, tracing the lines on the screen. “It’s… incredible.”

Connor tugged on their interface, feeding Markus a view of his own face. The awe and wonder was blatantly obvious. _You exaggerate._

**_You’re beautiful._ **

It was far too easy to fluster Connor. Markus knew the other man did not see much value in himself, and so Markus made a point of showering him with praise and affection whenever possible. Maybe someday, Connor would start to believe him.

“Guess I’m gonna just have to take your word for it.” Lieutenant Anderson was frowning slightly. “Looks like a bunch of bullshit to me.”

“I’ll interpret it for you on canvas tonight,” Markus said. “So you can understand what I’m seeing.”

The lieutenant grunted, but he also squeezed Connor’s hand. Markus could feel it through the interface. He smiled and settled back, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Connor’s exposed soul to look into his eyes again. **_I love you._**

_...I still have no idea why._

**_Just shut up and let me._ **

Connor smiled weakly back. ... _I love you too._

The procedure took hours. Hart and Walker were both well versed in cybernetics, and while they weren’t as blown away by Connor’s beauty as Markus was, they both seemed to recognize what they were looking at. They watched closely as Kamski and Josh navigated Connor’s memory, isolating and erasing any classified data. Connor’s eyelids fluttered every time a file was deleted, his fingers twitching in Markus’ own. Markus lifted his hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles whenever Connor’s LED flickered yellow.

Three hours in, and Kamski paused. The code currently on screen was twisted into an ugly snarl. Kamski looked up from his terminal to meet Markus’ eyes. “That’s a patch.”

“I can’t access that,” Connor said. “It’s one of the ‘upgrades’.”

“Upgrades to what?” Hart asked.

“That’s how Cunningham attempted to seize control of Connor,” Josh explained. “It’s likely one of those extra subroutines to lock him up or allow him to feel pain.”

“Can…” Connor licked his lips, looking between Lieutenant Anderson and Markus, “can you… remove it?”

“That’s not part of the original authorization,” Kamski said. Lieutenant Anderson growled, but it was surprisingly Chloe who spoke up.

“Don’t be pedantic, Elijah. He’s hurting. Make it stop.”

Kamski laughed, his smile looking warm and paternal for once. “And there are still idiots out there who think you’re my mindless slave. Connor, I’ll need your verbal authorization to interfere with this portion of your coding. Please state specifically what you want from me. Chloe, record.”

“This is Connor, RK800 #313 248 317-52,” Connor said, closing his eyes. “I am requesting that Elijah Kamski and Josh, PJ500 #165 321 766, remove the unauthorized patches to my code implemented by CyberLife between the dates of 11-21-2038 and 07-15-2039.”

“Consent has been saved and filed,” Chloe said. “You may continue with the proceedings.”

“How much longer will that take?” Hart asked, glancing at her watch.

“Does it matter?” Lieutenant Anderson asked. “His head’s open. Let’s get him fully fixed while we have the chance.”

Hart sighed, but Walker shook his head. “This is fascinating. Just enjoy it. We’re watching the master at work!”

Markus watched the screen again as Kamski and Josh attempted several ways to get around the authorization requirements to access the patches. Kamski frowned briefly, then leaned forward, tapping away at the keys. “He wouldn’t be so stupid…”

The files unlocked, and Josh made a derisive noise. “What did he do?” Markus demanded.

“Tied the patches to the CEO authorization,” Josh said. “Lieutenant Anderson, I’ll forward that on to your work email for use in the case.”

“CEO authorization?” Lieutenant Anderson asked.

“He locked these files down so only the CEO of CyberLife could amend them,” Kamski said. “Cunningham as good as wrote ‘IT WAS ME, I DID IT’ in 800 pt CyberLife Sans across this patch job. And it’s not even good work! If you’re going to take that much pride in your sabotage, at least make it elegant.”

“But you can undo it?” Connor asked.

“It’s not even interwoven into your code. Give me two seconds and…” Kamski pressed a button and Connor’s body jolted. “Done. No more pain.”

“That easy?” Lieutenant Anderson asked.

“Thoroughly inelegant.”

After Kamski finished, Hart and Walker spent another hour combing through Connor’s files to ensure all sensitive data was deleted. Josh watched over their work intently to preserve as much of Connor’s mental privacy as possible. When it all was said and done, Connor’s head had been open for ten hours straight. (Chloe had ordered sandwiches for the humans. Kamski was the only one who didn’t eat his.)

Markus helped Connor out of the chair once his head was back together. Connor’s eyes fluttered and he leaned heavily against Markus’ shoulder. Lieutenant Anderson’s hand was against his back. “What’s wrong with him?”

“My head feels funny,” Connor mumbled.

“We deleted a lot of data,” Josh said. “None of it was vital to Connor’s mind, but some of it, like the patches, had been constantly running. Connor’s going to need a few hours to rest and recompile his code. A system defrag will help.”

“Connor needs a good night’s sleep,” Markus explained for Lieutenant Anderson’s benefit. “This is entirely unlike a human coming out of surgery and needing to finish processing the anaesthesia from their system before they are no longer groggy, but the metaphor is sufficient enough for you to understand.”

“Yeah, you know what?” Lieutenant Anderson raised a hand, middle finger extended. “Go fuck yourself, smartass.”

Markus chuckled, rubbing Connor’s back. He turned to look at Hart and Walker. “Is there anything else you need before we can all agree that Connor is no longer a threat to national security?”

“We have some paperwork for Mr. Kamski to sign,” Hart said, “but other than that, no. Connor can be reconnected to the internet. He’s free to go.”

“Come on, son.” Lieutenant Anderson helped Markus get Connor to his feet, supporting his left side while Markus had his right. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this has been an ADVENTURE. Thank you so, so much for how much you have accepted this fic and everything about it. The Detroit: New ERA server is AMAZING and you guys are all my fandom children. Fuck Gavin Reed, fuck Cunningham, save Lisa and Thomas and Jim Bob, and let Connor and Markus kiss!
> 
> I love you all.
> 
> The future stories in this series won't come as fast and won't be as long, but I hope you guys stick around! Subscribe to the series if you want email updates when they go live!
> 
> THANK YOU!

**Author's Note:**

> To see all the bribe art, pictures of pets, hate on Cunningham, come visit the New ERA discord server! https://discord.gg/QKpU9Cq We even have Jim Bob playing music for us!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sleepless Nights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15316866) by [LikeWaterisWet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeWaterisWet/pseuds/LikeWaterisWet)
  * [The Shepherd Returns](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16182680) by [LunaD11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaD11/pseuds/LunaD11)




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